


Æternam

by buggaloo



Category: Antisepticeye - Fandom, RPF AU - Fandom, Sean McLoughlin - Fandom, Vampires - Fandom, jacksepticeye, mark fischbach - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: AU, Ancient Egyptian Deities, Antisepticeye Sean McLoughlin, Blood Drinking, Character Turned Into Vampire, Light Angst, Multi, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, RPF AU, References to Depression, Vampire Mark Fischbach, Vampire!Jack, Vampires, YouTubers - Freeform, antisepticeye, vampire jacksepticeye, vampire youtubers, vampire!Antisepticeye, vampire!Mark, vampire!anti
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:29:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 35
Words: 129,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8638759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buggaloo/pseuds/buggaloo
Summary: **[formerly known as SLOW SIX]**Mark Fischbach is a centuries-old vampire who has gone against the orders of The Prophecy in choosing not to immediately turn his friend and protégé, the human Seán "Jack" McLoughlin, so that Jack could briefly have a moderately normalized life. As their friendship blossomed over time, a darkness within Jack was growing, lying in wait just below the surface to take full control. This darkness would come to be known as "Anti," a powerful and ancient Egyptian deity that was awakened to bring forth an unending Hell on Earth.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **Updated AGAIN as of 07/04/17 because I'm the worst: there's a reason I don't usually do Prologues y'all lol. Anyways hopefully this is the LAST time this will get updated.**
> 
> I've had this idea in my head for about 4 years now and only just getting pen to paper, figuratively speaking (of course, that was with different characters than Mark/Jack). I'm a fanfiction.net veteran and have read many a Mark/Jack story, so I thought I'd try out my own with vampires yay!

**October 2016**

 

On his back, in the bathtub, the plastic shower curtain suffocating him, Jack nearly succumbed to blackness. Red stained the shower curtain and he felt pain on the side of his throat, although it quickly was becoming numb. He could hear his pulse in his ears and he felt blood, wet and warm, pouring from the wound in his neck. His eyelids fluttered.

 

“Uh…unnngggg…” he moaned. Jack tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. After what felt like eternity, he felt hands around him, pulling off the shower curtain and attempting to lift him up off his back.

 

“Please, stop running away from me,” Mark grunted, trying to lift the ailing Irishman out of the tub. “I’m sorry...we have to do this now…”

 

He held Jack, cradling him like a child, carrying him out of the bathroom and toward the hallway. Everything began to get blurry again as Mark sat Jack down, trying to steady him so he could stand.

 

 “I’m…I’m really scared…” Jack choked out. He was terrified of the monster inside him, seemingly clawing just beneath the surface of his skin. The glitching, eerie laughter in his subconscious almost felt like it were present in the room with him. Then, the vampire shoved a crimson-coated finger into Jack's mouth, and he tasted his own blood.

 

Mark removed his finger, scraping it against Jack's teeth. Saliva dribbled in a string from Jack's mouth, and his stomach rebelled against the taste of iron.

 

“I’m still here,” Mark coaxed. “Now, I want you to help me remember.”

 

Jack barely recalled what he meant. His heartbeat slowed. He knew he was dying.

 

“O-kay,” Jack stammered. “Okay. Do it…quickly…”

 

Mark’s cool grin was savage behind gleaming, bloody fangs.  His odd-colored eyes bored into Jack’s soul as he moved back in for the kill. Jack barely felt any pain this time, but curiously, felt the slight arousal of pleasure. He grinned as he felt Mark draining him, wrapping his arms tightly around the vampire’s muscular back, not wishing to let go, not wishing to end this. Why had he fought him so hard again? Why did he _want_ to remain human?

 

Oh…right. He was going to lose his memories. He knew that by agreeing to become a vampire, his human memory would be wiped clean. No more knowledge of school, no more family, no more friends, no more hopes and dreams...no more _her_. Just an endless journey to find his memory again—or, the vessel that would return him his memory.

 

This was what Mark had been searching for for over two hundred years, and now he was going to have it.

 

As the last drops of Jack’s blood trickled down his throat, Mark pulled away from his friend, staring into the already-glazing blue eyes that he found so familiar. He knew they would be replaced soon…but with what color? The silver eyes of an Alkali, or the red eyes of a Feral? Since Mark was a half-breed, and had one silver and one crimson eye, the Prophecy was unclear as to what type of vampire he would end up procreating.

 

Mark ran a sharp claw across his own jugular, inviting Jack in by pulling him close. Jack wanted to reject the eerily-warm fluid flowing into his mouth, but the monster inside him grew hungrier with each gulp. He could feel him taking over as he mustered the strength to lift his hands to Mark’s shoulders, digging fingernails through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. It was then that Mark’s eyes began to roll back into his head and he fought to remain standing so that Jack could feed. He almost felt his heartbeat racing…or the distant memory of what that once felt like.

 

He remembered.

 

The sun. The eighteenth century. His parents. His _actual_ parents, not the vampires who brought him up. His after-school job as a clerk at his parents’ store. Going to college for the first time. His girlfriend, fiancée, wife. The gentle kiss on her slightly-rounded stomach that he gave her on the last day he saw her. What happened to her? …What happened to his child?

 

Mark toppled backwards then, unable to hold himself up any longer, the memory flood sending him into near-sensory overload. But something felt... _wrong_. 

 

Jack’s eyes became a solid sheen of glistening white while he simply stared forward, not seeing his best friend of many years fall to the floor in a limp heap. Mark tried to sit up but it was almost as if he was being held down by some unknown force. His friend’s name got stuck on his lips as he tried to call to Jack. Jack could feel himself becoming overpowered by the darkness within him, shadows engulfing his vision as he nearly lost consciousness.

 

Instantly and sickeningly, Jack’s head snapped downward to stare at Mark, a _crack_ sound echoing in the room as the bones in his neck adjusted to the speed. Mark’s vision became clear again and he saw, horrifyingly, the crimson irises of a newborn vampire.

 

A jolt of pain shot through Mark’s body then, and he cried out loudly, trying to stifle the sound by biting his hand. His breathing became ragged and his body was shaking uncontrollably. Was this supposed to happen? Why hadn’t the Ancients told him about this part? He squeezed his eyes shut as the pain began to dull.

 

When Mark opened his eyes again, the newly-sired vampire Jack was bending down to him, a sickening, fanged smile spread across his face.

 

“Hi, there," the childlike voice said. "Looks like we both got what we wanted after all." 

 

 _Anti..._ Mark's head was reeling, trying to make sense of what was going on. How could this be? 

 

"Oh," Anti chirped, excited by something new. "You've got red eyes! Lovely. You became full Feral."

 

"God _dammit!_ " Mark yelled, his booming voice echoing off the walls as he sat straight up, stumbling to his feet. "Can this night get  _any_ worse? Where is Jack? What have you done with him?" 

 

Anti tapped his temple gently, raising an eyebrow. "In here. Safe. With me."

 

Mark couldn't believe what he was hearing. This was supposed to be _his_ night, the biggest night in his life since being turned. He had regained his memory, the _one_ thing that he had been searching for all this time, the most  _important_ thing to him...but this was on the backburner for the time being. Until he could find Jack and pry him loose from the hold of the monster that held him captive inside his own body.

 

The creature inhabiting Jack moved with inhuman speed toward the second-story window, where he opened it and started to step through it.

 

"I'm hungry now," Anti said from the end of the hallway. Mark, still flabbergasted by what was occuring, stood his ground. 

 

"Not alone," he murmured. "You can't go alone. Not without me. You could hurt someone..."

 

Anti chuckled. "What the hell do you think I'm tryin' to do, anyways?" He hopped out of the second-story window gracefully, and Mark heard a soft  _thud_ on the grass outside, followed by a quickening pace of footsteps as Anti ran away into the night.

 

" _Fuck_ me..." Mark cursed at himself as he forced his body to move toward the window. He jumped through as well, his fall not-so-graceful as he was still weak from having sired recently. He raced off toward where he caught the scent of the young vampire.

 

He had to get Jack out of this, if it was even possible anymore. But he knew that if it was, Mark would be the only person who would know how.


	2. Bourbon and Merlot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Carnivore, carnivore,  
> Won't you come digest me?  
> Take away everything I am.  
> Bring it to an end.  
> Carnivore, carnivore,  
> Could you come and change me?  
> Take away everything I am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place years before the events of the Prologue previously posted. Enjoy!

**2012**

 

 “Mark, come on, slow the fuck down for a second,” Jack called out to his friend up ahead of him, resting hands on his knees to try and catch his breath.

 

Mark turned to look behind him. “Oh, sorry.” He stopped the grocery cart on a dime and waited for Jack to catch up. “Just got excited. I haven’t had excellent wine in a long time.”

 

Jack finally mustered the strength to walk the few feet ahead of him to his friend, instantly climbing into the near-empty cart and pouting.

 

“I am _not_ pushing you around this store,” Mark said, annoyed. “You’re a grown man. Get out of the cart.” The Irishman crossed his arms and grunted. “I mean, people already think we’re a couple. Wanna give them anymore ideas?”

 

A sigh escaped Jack’s lips and he rolled his eyes. “No.” He shifted uncomfortably. “But I’m still riding in the cart. It’s not weird. I’m tired. You’re hard to keep up with.”

 

“I told you I’d slow down,” Mark cooed in a teasing voice. He pushed the cart back and forth in the aisle, shaking Jack around. The vampire was happy that the store was mostly deserted, save for a few sleep-deprived humans.

 

“Ever since you told me what you were—I just haven’t been able to get it out of my head,” Jack whispered. “It’s all I think about anytime I see you. I get it stuck in my mind anytime we’re together and it exhausts me. It’s hard to keep pace with someone who can move as quick as a blur.”

 

Mark stopped the cart even faster than he had previously.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, a look of hurt flashing across his face almost too quickly for Jack to notice. Instant regret and apology filled Jack as he thought about what he had just admitted.

 

“There’s no need to apologize.” Jack stood in the cart and faced away from Mark, holding his arms out in a T position. “Make me fly, Mark. To the wine aisle.”

 

Immediately, Mark grinned a toothless grin and stifled a chuckle. He pushed the cart carefully forward out of the snacks aisle, but not before Jack grabbed a container of trail mix off the shelf as he was whisked by it. A couple of people stared, but most customers were too zoned-out after working all day to notice the two strange men on a late-night grocery run.

 

With a few more snacks in tow than intended, and a mid-priced bottle of merlot, Mark and Jack eventually made it back to Mark’s townhouse. Jack plopped down on his couch and powered up his PS3.

 

“Is anyone else comin’ over?” Jack asked through a mouthful of pretzels.

 

“Like who?” the vampire questioned. “It’s almost 2 AM. Everyone’s in bed probably.”

 

“Oh. Shit.” Time seemed to get away from Jack these days. After leaving work in the evenings, he typically either spent time at home on his computer or at Mark’s place. He had forgotten the double shift he pulled at the hospital today. “Then…why’d we get all this stuff?”

 

Mark shrugged. “I dunno. Figured we could use a power-down after a long day.” He popped the cork on the wine bottle and poured two glasses, bringing them over to the couch while the _Skyrim_ main menu theme played on the TV.

 

As he took a seat, he caught a glimpse of Jack staring him down. Mark froze as he sat, awkwardly holding two wine glasses while his friend looked him over.

 

“You’re a vampire,” Jack said matter-of-factly, almost as if there were more to the story.

 

“Y—yes…? We went over this, like, last week.”

 

“Why are you drinking _wine_ , then?”

 

Mark glanced down at the glasses, sat them both down, and looked back up. “I enjoy the taste.”

 

“Why won’t you eat any food?”

 

“I don’t like the taste. And it’s not good for my body, it doesn’t digest like yours does. When liquids go in, they return to my veins. It’s why when I have alcohol, I have to have a little blood to combat it.”

 

Jack contemplated this, reaching for his wine glass and holding the stem, staring into the deep red warmth inside the glass. He gulped as a potentially horrifying question came to mind. He couldn’t look Mark in the eye when he asked. “Have you had any blood today?”

 

Mark’s honeyed chuckle filled the room and made Jack more at ease instantly. “Yes, I have. Don’t worry about that.”

 

Jack’s heartbeat picked up and Mark knew he was nervous anyway. Both looking into each other’s eyes, they took a sip of the merlot. _Skyrim_ remained untouched.

 

“I’m…” Jack began, a bead of sweat forming on his brow, “It’s a little warm in here, yeah?”

 

“Yeah…oh my gosh, yeah, I’m so sorry,” Mark apologized. He jumped up to adjust the thermostat. “I set it up a little higher. Cold-blooded, and everything, you know.” The Irishman breathed an audible sigh of relief as he relaxed into the couch with his wine in one hand and some pretzels in the other, staring at the TV screen.

 

“How did work on your end go today?” the vampire asked to fill the awkward silence. Jack was happy to have the conversation going a different direction.

 

“It was fine, for the most part,” he said. “The rest of the team was a little unproductive, so I ended up doing most of the running around. I guess people get that way around the holidays.”

 

It was almost Thanksgiving again, one of Jack’s favorite American holidays. He felt very lucky to be a certified nursing assistant for the UCLA Medical Center, but was sad that he had to work most holidays. One thing that made it bearable was his best friend also working in the same hospital, although Mark was typically in a different wing. The phlebotomists and CNAs rarely crossed paths.

 

“What about you?” Jack asked after a moment. “Get any fainters?”

 

“Not today,” he answered, squinting toward the TV as if in thought. “Nothing’s ever been like that little girl back a few months ago. I hadn’t seen anything that scary in decades.”

 

Jack’s mind raced with the idea of what could have been scarier than a little girl with a needle in her arm screaming about seeing demons and then passing out cold, eyes still wide open. But Mark has been around for quite some time, he supposed.

 

The bottle of wine was almost completely gone by 3:30 AM, and Jack had a fair case of the giggles while he ran around aimlessly in the world of _Skyrim_ , dying every few minutes by a dragon or some type of mage. Mark had only just finished his one and only glass, taking in the hilarity of his friend’s RPG adventures.

 

“You should do stuff like this with your YouTube channel,” Mark prompted his drunken friend.

 

“Oh, that?” Jack rolled his eyes. “That’s probably never going anywhere to be honest.”

 

“So? Neither is mine most likely, but it’s fun.”

 

Jack jumped up suddenly and went into the kitchen, coming back with a bottle of bourbon and a shot glass. “Every time I die, I’m gonna take a shot.”

 

“You are gonna have the worst time tomorrow morning.”

 

“Is that a _challenge_ , my dear blood-drinkin’ friend?” Mark couldn’t help but grin.

 

“Sure, it’s a challenge.” A few more minutes passed, and Jack had died a total of three more times, when Mark decided it was time to break more news to his friend.

 

“So,” he began, shifting on the couch and clearing his throat. “There was something else about the vampire thing I needed to tell you.”

 

“Oh God, is it gonna be somethin’ super… weirdly sexual or somethin’?” Jack didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “Dammit! Fuckin’ frost trolls.” He poured another shot.

 

“No, it’s not about…listen, it’s about…” Mark didn’t know any easier way to tell him. “It’s about you.”

 

The game suddenly went to the pause menu as Jack placed the controller gently onto the table in front of him. Crossing his legs and placing his hands on one knee, he whipped his head around to look at his undead friend. “What about me?”

 

“It’s kinda…the whole reason we’re friends, and everything,” the vampire explained. Confusion crossed Jack’s face as he tried to contemplate what his best friend was saying. “Remember the Prophecy I was telling you about?” A slow and calculated nod from the drunk. “Well, in it, the Ancients have laid out a sort of…map. Of who gets to kinda…become a vampire, so to speak, I guess. And…well, of course, _I_ was in it, beneath my sire who became my vampire father-figure.” Jack’s blue eyes seemed glazed over in thought, yet he didn’t speak. Mark was running out of ways to dance around the news. “Well, beneath _my_ name, is…is your name.”

 

Jack wasn’t sure if it was his own dim wit, or the alcohol that wasn’t allowing him to register the words. It was as if they were of a foreign tongue.

 

“Under your name… is Seán McLoughlin? Or Jack? ‘Cause, those are two different people.” Jack tried to laugh away his creeping terror. He grabbed the shot he just poured and held it up to his mouth, not drinking yet.

 

“It’s you, Seán. It’s Jack. You’re my…I’m your sire. You have to become a vampire and it has to be done by me.”

 

Jack had never taken a shot quicker in his life.

 

“Why?” he asked after some time. No feeling was behind it, just a simple question.

 

Mark shrugged. “It’s just the order of the Ancients. I hate it more than anything. I’ve done everything I can to change it. It’s impossible. We are part of a bloodline that was created many millennia ago. To try and change it could mean disaster.”

 

Jack picked up the bottle of bourbon and took a huge gulp.

 

“When?”

 

“I was supposed to have already done it.”

 

The Irishman cocked his head to one side, staring straight ahead at nothing, cradling the alcohol in his crossed arms. “So do it.”

 

“What?” The vampire was honestly taken aback.

 

“Why don’t you just do it?”

 

“You won’t remember anything,” Mark said apologetically. “You won’t even know who you are. You can’t go back to work, you won’t remember how to do anything there. You won’t know your family. You can’t speak to them again after you have been turned. There’s no telling what you’d do to them in your fledgling bloodlust.”

 

Jack swallowed another gulp of bourbon. He felt sleep coming on soon. Or blackout drunkenness. He would’ve gladly taken either in that moment.

 

“I’m going to press my luck for as long as I can with this,” Mark promised, grabbing Jack’s chin and turning his gaze to meet his own. “You deserve life. You deserve more than what I got. Allegedly turned in the middle of the woods after I was left for dead…” Mark swallowed and shook that memory from his head. There was no time to be weak now when he needed to be a rock for his friend. “I don’t remember it, of course, like I told you. But…when I turn you…I get to know again. I get to find out an entire chapter of my life that was lost to me so long ago.”

 

“And I get to lose everything,” Jack said, tears welling up in his blue eyes.

 

“But I’m not gonna let this happen. Not right now. Do you hear me?” His friend stared back into his eyes intently. “You get to live. I will do everything I can to help you have a fulfilled life. I _promise_ you that.”

 

Jack bit his lip while he pondered. “And, there’s absolutely no way to get your memories back unless you turn me?”

 

The vampire shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

 

They both glanced back at the television, still on the pause menu after a kill screen. Jack picked the controller back up after one last swig of the bourbon that no longer burned his throat.

 

“We’ll talk about it some other time, okay?” Mark suggested. “It’s best to let it simmer for now. No rush.”

 

Jack didn’t remember falling asleep on his couch that night, but he made sure to be extra quiet when sneaking out the next morning.

 


	3. Harvest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In your skin,  
> To die a little death,  
> This time there's no code word.  
> When every day frays in hollow ends,  
> Dream sweet love submissive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little longer of a chapter this time. Hope you enjoy!

Following a rough night of sleeping on the couch in a presumably awkward position, Jack sat at the front desk computer checking his emails, hoping the aspirin would begin to kick in sooner rather than later. His mind was everywhere and nowhere at the same time; it was going to be hard to focus on what needed to be done today. He tried, distantly, to remember exactly what Mark was saying to him last night. Basically the entire reason they were friends was because of this stupid Prophecy. Jack became friends with a vampire, essentially, so that the vampire could feed from him and turn him into one of his kind. The rage burned through him for most of the morning, and he tried his best to swallow it down, the dull migraine still pounding at the back of his head.

 

He hadn’t seen Mark the entire morning. That was strange for him. Typically, he came by at least once to greet Jack or bother him in some way, or borrow the front desk office supplies. Jack pulled out his phone to make sure he hadn’t received any strange texts. Nothing. Trying not to let it get to him, he made his rounds with the other nurses to check on the patients until it was nearly time for lunch.

 

 One of the other CNAs, Amber, sat with Jack at lunch while he picked at his salad. “What’s wrong?” Her blue eyes glittered in the sun as she tried to meet his sluggish gaze.

 

“Nothin,’ really,” Jack sighed, dragging the fork through the ranch-drenched lettuce. “I had a weird moment with Mark last night.” He looked up to notice that she had a very concerned look on her face. “Not like that.” Trying to squash those rumors was getting harder and harder.

 

“Well, then, what?”

 

“I can’t really explain it in a way that makes sense,” he said, “but the basic idea is that he became my friend for a reason I didn’t expect.”

 

“Um…” She squinted, trying to think of anything that wasn’t sexual. “Okay. I guess I understand.”

 

“Yeah, it’s just dumb bullshit.”

 

“But you guys have been friends for a little while now,” she said comfortingly. “Remember how much you used to hate him when he first transferred here?”

 

Jack remembered clear as day how much he hated the smirking, smart-ass “new hot guy” that every woman in the hospital was crazy about. How much they loved his voice, his muscles, his smile. Everyone wanted a piece of the pie, except Jack. He viewed him as competition, and nothing more, not realizing that he was the primary reason that Mark even moved to the area. After a long conversation with the new phlebotomist, Jack realized that it was time to put pettiness aside and reach out in friendship. He never expected this stranger to become his best friend…and he definitely never expected to eventually become a vampire sired by him.

 

Shaking off the haunting memory of last night’s news, he came back to reality. “I didn’t hate him _that_ much,” he lied, rolling his eyes.

 

Amber laughed. “Yeah, right.” She took a sip of her water while she glanced over in the direction of the snack machines. “Isn’t that Mark over there?”

 

Jack whipped his head around quickly to see if Amber was just tricking him. Sure enough, he could spot the man anywhere. Mark was talking to a young brunet woman as she bought a soda. Squinting, Jack tried not to make himself look too obvious. Mark must have sensed the Irishman’s eyes on him, because he almost immediately looked over to see Jack trying to shield his vision from him. Mark chuckled under his breath and said goodbye to the woman, walking over to sit with Jack and Amber.

 

“Hey,” Mark said warmly. Jack looked in the opposite direction.

 

“Hey.” He stabbed a forkful of salad and forced it into his mouth, trying his hardest to ignore the vampire.

           

Amber noticed the tension and stood to leave. “I’ll catch you later, Jack?” she asked hopefully. Jack nodded, not looking up at her as she walked away, short heels clicking on the linoleum.

 

Mark watched her go. “Dude, she wants you,” he teased. Jack scooted a little further away from his friend.

 

“I doubt it,” Jack said, continuing to stare down at his salad.

 

“No…trust me.” Mark grinned over at his friend. “Come _on_ , Jack. What’s the matter?”

 

“You told me last night the only reason we’re friends is because you have to turn me into a vampire,” Jack said, the truth blurting out more quickly than he’d hoped. “Is that right? You wouldn’t be my friend otherwise?”

 

Mark scowled. “You know I have to obey the Prophecy. Of course I’d be your friend otherwise. It’s just that circumstances called for this to happen this way. I’m really sorry if I hurt your feelings. I never meant to. But in all fairness, I never would’ve had a reason to come to this part of the world if not for obeying my orders.”

 

Jack mulled on it, swallowing a bite of his salad. His eyes danced over to where the sun struck the linoleum floor of the cafeteria, spreading a shimmering light around the room. “I suppose,” he admitted finally. Mark breathed a sigh of relief. “But where have you been all day? You usually stop by the front desk to annoy me.”

 

“I was making some plans with my family,” Mark said. “Lots to do and only a couple days to prepare.”

 

“Prepare for what?”

 

“Thanksgiving, of course,” Mark said matter-of-factly. “It’s a huge holiday for us in the vampire world.” Jack narrowed his eyes as he thought about it, reluctantly wondering how exactly such an event would go down.

 

“If there’s any way I can make it up to you about last night,” the vampire continued, changing the subject, “please let me know. You’re, of course, invited to spend Thanksgiving with me and my family. It’s going to be an interesting gathering.”

 

Jack glanced over at his friend curiously. “What kind of gathering are we talkin’ about?”

 

His friend smiled brightly. “Well, if I told you, it wouldn’t be any fun, would it?”

 

Two days later, Jack put on his best black suit and tie, checking his appearance in the mirror numerous times before heading downstairs. Mark would be showing up soon, and he didn’t want to be late for his first-ever appearance at a family gathering. He had to laugh at himself as he took one last glance at his ensemble in the bathroom mirror. _It’s like I’m goin’ on a date,_ he thought, embarrassed. He flipped off the light switch and walked down the stairs, hearing a knock at the door very soon after. Perfect timing as usual.

 

Mark had cleared a space for Jack in his car—an early 2000s model Prius—and held the door open on the passenger’s side for him.

 

“M’lady,” he mocked, prompting a scowl from Jack as he slid into the seat while Mark closed the door. The car was warm and Mark had music playing from the radio, but Jack wasn’t sure what band it was. Mark’s door opened and he sat down in the driver’s seat, putting the car in drive and inching forward slowly.

 

“You look nice today,” the vampire said, grinning. Jack looked over at Mark to see that he was wearing a grey suit with a white button up and suspenders, complete with glossy black shoes and a bow tie.

 

“Thanks,” Jack said, “so do you.”

 

They rode in silence for a few minutes, Mark casually tapping his thumb on the steering wheel to the beat of the song on the radio.

 

“Now,” Mark began, breaking the silence, “I’m just gonna warn you that some of my family is a little…wary of newcomers.”

 

Jack raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

 

“Well…they don’t really _like_ humans, to be honest. I won’t let anyone lay a finger on you or say anything rude, but just be prepared if someone tries something.”

 

“Am I gonna die?” Jack was getting worried. Mark heard his pulse begin to race.

 

“Of course not,” Mark promised, “you’re with me. I’m the one who has to sire you, anyway, remember?”

 

A nervous chuckle escaped Jack’s throat. “Yeah, that.” More silence for a while. Mark switched the radio station to dance music. Jack surprisingly knew the song, and he tried to let that take over his thoughts rather than being worried about the gathering. It was just Mark’s family, they would be accepting of him, surely. He hoped.

 

They pulled up to the Beverly Hills Hotel, a ritzy and glamorous place for a vampire family’s Thanksgiving, Jack thought. As Mark jumped out of the car and handed the valet a $50, Jack realized that money wasn’t going to be an issue this evening. He also realized, upon glancing at the valet, that the man’s eyes were glazed over, looking forward but not seeing anything. Mark whispered something in the man’s ear, and the valet almost mechanically moved toward the car, got inside, and drove away. There was an unseasonable chill in the air, and Jack was hoping it wasn’t just his nerves giving him the shivers.

 

Once they got to the door, Mark stopped, his hand resting on the golden handle.

 

“What?” Jack questioned, fear creeping into his voice as he swallowed.

 

“There’s something else I forgot to mention,” Mark said. He pulled the door open and began to walk inside. Jack paused briefly, mind racing, before he ran after Mark.

 

“What is it?” Jack had no sooner gotten the words out when he saw exactly what it was.

 

The hotel lobby, lavish and richly-decorated in crimson and silver décor, was _filled to the brim_ with vampires, at least two hundred of them. Jack stopped just behind Mark, his hands reaching forward to grab the vampire’s muscular shoulders out of instinct, ducking down behind his friend. A small _squeak_ escaped him as he took in the sight. His heartbeat was through the roof, and Mark knew that most of them heard it.

 

“It’s not just my _immediate_ family,” Mark said in a hushed whisper. “It’s every vampire that has ever existed. Our kind _is_ a family.”

 

Jack’s mind began racing, and all he wanted to do was back out and run for his life. He was in over his head this time. Why didn’t Mark try to warn him about this before?!

 

A few vampires started to notice Mark and Jack standing just inside the doorway, Jack sweating profusely while Mark stood in front of him, smiling awkwardly and avoiding eye contact. Within a few minutes, most everyone immediately surrounding them had stopped to stare.

 

“Uh….” Mark choked out. “…Hi.”

 

“Mark!” a young woman called through the crowd in a posh English accent, rushing past still bodies as quick as lightning. Her hair was fashioned in beautiful braids and her dark skin glittered with gemstones, her golden evening gown flowing off her small frame and trailing the ground behind her. She swooped forward, inviting Mark into her open arms and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Mummy missed you.”

 

“I missed you too, mum,” Mark replied, scooping her up in his grasp and plopping her down again in front of him. “Ma, this is Seán McLoughlin. He goes by Jack. I’m sure you know a lot about him by now.”

 

Jack was still frozen in fear behind Mark, but at the mention of his name, he felt the chocolate eyes of this beautiful woman boring into him. She smiled a brilliant white smile and came toward him cautiously. He managed to stammer out a brief greeting while locking eyes with her.

 

“Hello, Jack,” she said, “I’m Amelia. Mark’s vampire mother.” The Irishman was still stunned. This woman couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, and yet she was Mark’s _mother_? How did any of this work?

 

“Jack is a little shy, Ma. He’s not used to being around…so many of us.”

 

Amelia nodded understandingly, and turned to the party of vampires who were still frozen, staring at the trio. “We all know it’s not polite to stare.” Instantly, the vampires went back to mingling. Amelia spun quickly back to Mark and Jack. “Your father and siblings should be around here somewhere. I could try to find them if you’d like.”

 

“That’s alright, I’m sure we’ll run into them later,” Mark told her. She smiled again, curtsied once more to Jack, and excused herself through the crowd, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

 

Mark faced Jack, grabbing him by the wrist to begin leading him through the crowd. Reluctantly, Jack moved his feet in the direction that Mark was taking him. Most of the vampires ignored him. However, several turned and Jack could see red glowing irises burning a hole through him. He shivered, averting his gaze back to the polished floor, hoping no one would say anything. One woman got close to his neck and inhaled deeply as he passed, growling low in her throat and smiling at him, fangs glistening.

 

“M—Mark?” Jack stuttered. When Mark turned to see what the problem was, the woman was gone. Jack sighed with relief and walked a little more quickly through the crowd.

 

They ascended the grand stairwell in the center of the room, Mark seeming to calculate each step he took with great zeal. His grip on Jack’s wrist was beginning to get a little tighter as they made their way through a sea of red eyes. Mark nodded to each of them, a look in his eye that told them Jack was not to be harmed. Some of them seemed to let their guard down, but others still were wary of the guest.

           

An older gentleman, probably in his fifties, approached Mark and Jack. Mark let go of Jack’s wrist, which Jack hated very much, to embrace the dark-haired man.

 

“My son,” the man said in a thick Latin American accent. “How wonderful it is to see you.” He looked behind Mark at the white-washed young human, blue eyes wide as he glanced around at the other vampires. “You must be Seán. Pleased to meet you.”

 

Jack’s eyes met the older man’s, and instantly, he began to feel much safer and secure. He slid forward carefully and grasped Mark’s father’s hand, trying not to be surprised by how cold it was.

 

“Yes, sir,” Jack said. “It’s very nice to meet you. I go by Jack.”

           

“My mistake. I’m Lucien,” he said. “Please don’t be afraid. No one here will hurt you.”  He narrowed his eyes and met the gaze of the vampires hoarding around them. “I’ll make sure of it.” The tension in the room grew so hostile that Jack could feel it emanating from the bodies around him. Still, the vampires moved away from the small gathering and back into the crowd.

 

“Dad,” Mark began, “please help me make Jack feel at home. I know a lot of them probably think he’s part of the feast.”

 

Another nervous squeak from Jack made Lucien laugh out loud.

 

“They should know better than that,” he assured him. “He’s dressed too nicely to end up on the dinner table.”

 

Mark and his father shared a laugh, while Jack forced a terrified giggle to appease them.

 

“Oh,” Mark remembered, “where is Gianna?”

 

“She’s probably out on the dance floor, flirting with someone,” Lucien rolled his eyes. “If you go that direction you’re guaranteed to find her. She’s been talking about you nonstop.”

 

“Yeah, she knows how cool her big brother is,” Mark bragged.

 

“Ingram is here as well,” Lucien reminded Mark. Jack sensed another strange tension in the air.

 

“I don’t…think that meeting Ingram tonight is a good idea,” Mark said. “He probably wouldn’t like that I brought Jack unturned.”

 

Lucien nodded knowingly. “I’ll make sure to keep him occupied. In the meantime, please…” he gestured toward the party downstairs, “enjoy yourselves. You too, Jack.” The Irishman looked up at the older vampire. “You’ll want to get familiar with these types of rituals for your future.” Jack forced a smile as Lucien walked away.

 

After watching Lucien leave, Mark turned to face Jack again.

 

“Are you doing alright?” Mark asked. Jack was silent, but nodded unconvincingly. “Look, if you wanna leave, I completely under—“

 

“No,” Jack protested. “I should be here. Your folks are nice. I’m just scared of the red eyes, is all.”

 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Mark agreed. “That’s why I want to keep you away from my brother. He’s a Feral. He’s got very little sense of control when humans are around. I mostly think he does it to be ornery.”

 

Jack remembered distantly, when Mark came clean to him about what he was, that Mark’s eyes were red _and_ silver, and that meant he was a “half-breed.” He deduced that the silver-eyed Alkalis had a lot more restraint than the bloodthirsty Ferals. He was glad that Mark’s nature sided more with the Alkali.

 

Jack and Mark slowly made their way back downstairs to the party, passing several more groups of Ferals and a few kind-looking Alkalis.

 

“So, your _parents_ ,” Jack stumbled over the word. “What are they? What breed, I mean.”

 

Mark’s thoughts were elsewhere as he scanned the crowd for his sister. “Oh, well. My dad’s actually a Feral. My mum is an Alkali. I suspect that’s why I’m half-breed. They both took part in siring me. I think I’m the only half-breed according to the Prophecy. Most vampires are sired by both their parents, which tend to be the same breed, or are sired by a single parent.”

 

Things were getting a little confusing in Jack’s head, so he nodded without saying anything else.

 

They made it all the way down the stairs and were heading toward the dance floor when the lights dimmed. Everything got very silent. The music was cut abruptly. The atmosphere was still and uncomfortable. Everyone in the room turned to face the top of the stairwell. Jack’s vision hadn’t adjusted to the darkness, but he knew everyone else could see clearly. A booming voice was heard from the stairwell.

 

“Good evening, everyone,” Lucien greeted. “Thank you all for coming. I’m very excited to share this wonderful holiday with family and bloodkin. I’d like to thank my beautiful wife for helping me to organize this event, as well as my wonderful children, Mark, Gianna, and Ingram.”

 

Respectful applause was heard around the room. Jack’s eyes adjusted to see Amelia walking up the stairwell toward her husband, and a young girl and man walking with her. Mark remained standing beside Jack, not willing to leave him, he assumed. The young girl and the man turned to face the crowd with Amelia, waving as if they were royalty. Jack assumed these two to be Gianna and Ingram. Gianna’s brown waterfall curls reached just below her waist as she smiled a glimmering smile. She was probably around fourteen or fifteen, Jack supposed. Ingram, easily the most menacing of the group, grinned evilly as his blood-red eyes scanned the crowd. His features and skin tone seemed Middle Eastern to Jack, and he wore a rich crimson-colored keffiyeh upon his head. Jack’s heart sped up with Ingram’s red eyes fell dead on him. Mark stepped around in front of Jack when he saw Ingram’s gaze, a low growl rumbling in his chest. From where he stood, Jack saw Ingram chuckle to himself, running his tongue along his upper lip.

 

Upon seeing that Mark wasn’t going to make himself present, Lucien continued his speech. “Thanksgiving is a holiday that is celebrated in America by coming together with loved ones over a lavish feast. We are lucky and grateful to be in the presence of each and every vampire that has been sired over the last few centuries. If only the Ancients could have been among us this evening to see what a wonderful legacy they have created.” More applause. Gianna finally found Mark in the crowd and waved discreetly. He grinned back at her.

 

“We would like to invite you all to enjoy dinner with us,” Lucien continued, his gaze turning toward the opposite end of the room. The vampires all adjusted their gaze to a large dining table near the dance floor, a crystal chocolate fountain serving as a centerpiece. There were no plates or spoons. Wine glasses dotted the table and more were stacked behind it.

 

A group of vampires came out of a side door, leading fifteen to twenty glazed-eyed people toward the table. Directly in front of the table was a large porcelain tub, with hoses connecting to the crystal fountain. The people were forced onto their knees in front of the tub, and behind each one stood a vampire, claws out and ready at their jugulars.

 

Jack gasped and tried to look away, but it all happened too quickly.

 

Blood gushed from wounds created by the claws, but there were no screams. The humans just stared forward with dead eyes, seeing nothing before them, not realizing their imminent doom was upon them. Blood painted the porcelain tub and began to fill it. The vampires around Jack started to laugh and get excited about the meal they would soon get to enjoy, whispering to each other in hushed voices. One of the vampires flipped a switch near the fountain, and crimson liquid began to gush from the top of it, pooling in the bottom as it circulated through. Even more excitement filled the air.

 

“Now,” Lucien said, reveling in the atmosphere, “please, be our guests. Help yourselves. Dinner is served.”

 

Mark faced Jack as the vampires moved toward the dinner table. “Are you okay? Do we need to leave?”

 

Jack wasn’t so sure how he felt anymore. His stomach was churning and his knees were weak as he watched the vampires carry the limp bodies of the humans away, but not before a vampire in the crowd snatched one away and began to suck feverishly at the wound in the dead man’s throat. Upon seeing this, Jack felt bile rising in his throat, but when he tried to focus on Mark again he noticed that Mark’s fangs were out, his silver and crimson eyes glowing in the darkness. Before Jack could answer, Ingram appeared immediately behind Mark.

 

“Hello, little brother,” he cooed in Mark’s ear, and Jack noticed a thick accent. “I’m glad you brought a snack, but I think father has dinner covered.”

 

“Hello, Ingram,” Mark grumbled. Gianna ran up then, jumping into Mark’s arms with glee.

 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said happily.

 

“Wouldn’t miss seeing you for the world, little sister,” Mark said, kissing her forehead. Her silver party dress shimmered in the limited light. She felt the tension surrounding the three men and took one step back.

 

“Ingram,” Mark began, “why don’t you take Gianna to get some dinner and leave Jack and me alone?” Nodding toward Gianna, Mark conveyed to her through the expression on his face that she should distract the vampire.

 

“Oh, come now,” Ingram groaned, moving toward Jack like a predator to his prey. “He’s got adrenaline rushing through him.” Ingram inhaled deeply, his tousled brown hair shading his eyes. “I love the taste of fear.”

 

“Ingram!” Gianna shouted, pulling at his arm, “Mark said leave him alone!” Her silver eyes almost looked as menacing as Ingram’s. In the blink of an eye, Lucien was upon then, shielding Jack from the evil vampire.

 

“That’s enough, Ingram,” he warned. “In due time, Jack will be one of us. That time is not today. He is Mark’s guest, and he is to be _left alone_.” If there was anyone Ingram listened to, it was his father.

 

“Fine,” Ingram replied, backing down. He started to walk toward the table, but stopped and turned on his heel back toward Mark. “You know, you should count your blessings, Mark. Being a half-breed bastard isn’t so bad when Dad’s always on your side.”

           

The Feral in Mark caused him to swipe at Ingram’s throat with sharp black claws, the other vampire barely dodging out of the way in time. The Feral laughed and shook his head, grabbing Gianna’s wrist and leading her to the table. Reluctantly, she followed, glancing over her shoulder to give a look of concern to Mark.

 

“Mark,” Lucien said, tearing his attention away from his locked gaze with his sister. “Why don’t you go get something to eat? You look like you need it. When was the last time you fed?”

 

“Couple days ago,” Mark said. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

 

Jack was not fine. He was very far from fine. His pallor, white as snow, made Lucien take note.

 

“Jack,” Lucien said warmly, “don’t be afraid. No one here is going to hurt you.”

 

He wasn’t convinced, but followed Mark as he led him over to the dinner table.

 

Many vampires surrounded it, filling their glasses at the fountain with rich, warm blood. The closer Jack got, the more he could smell it—the smell of rust, sickly sweet in the back of his throat. The scent of death. He stopped for a moment to gulp down more bile. He was _not_ going to make a fool of himself in front of Mark, who didn’t seem to notice that Jack had halted momentarily. Jack trudged onward.

 

Finally, he made it just in time to see Mark fill his wine glass and begin to drink. He could do nothing but watch with wide eyes as his friend, the vampire, Mark Fischbach, gulped down an entire wine glass of blood within just a few seconds. Some of the vampires even began to get intimate with each other at the table. Gianna and Ingram stood at the opposite side, away from Jack, Ingram’s eyes boring into him while Gianna’s eyes watched the Feral cautiously.

 

Jack managed to muster up the strength to come forward to peer into the tub. Placing his hands on either side, he leaned over, seeing his reflection in the pool. His breathing became ragged as he remembered the people who had to die for this. _But it was just a few people, right?_ he asked himself. _Not really that big of a deal…_

 

Mark stood on the other side of the tub, staring at Jack while he sipped on his second serving, eyes glowing sinister in the dim lighting. Jack met his gaze, and grinned at him, trying to prove that he could be tough and that he could handle this. Mark smiled back, teeth bloody and fangs glistening. Mark held out the wine glass to his friend. Jack was stunned for a moment, but grabbed the glass, swirling the liquid around inside it. _People died for this..._ his brain kept telling him.

 

Taking one last reassuring look at Mark, he pressed the glass to his lips and tilted it, feeling the warm liquid smooth across his tongue and trickle toward the back of his throat. He swallowed. Mark’s smile was genuine, proud almost. Jack handed the glass back to Mark, watching as the vampire’s expression changed from happiness to concern. Jack ducked forward involuntarily, feeling his eyes roll back in his head. Mark swooped in immediately and Jack felt himself floating across the polished floor. Before he completely lost consciousness, he caught one last glimpse of Ingram, shaking his head slowly in disbelief while he chuckled darkly.


	4. Orange Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do we really know the way the wind blows?   
> Are we really safe around the shadows?   
> Through our windows...  
> But I'm aware, and I don't care."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorryyyyyy it's been so long since I've updated, been crazy busy with work and the holidays and my new YouTube channel!!! Hope y'all forgive <3 and please enjoy this chapter where we get a sneaky-peaky of Anti~

 

Sunlight streamed through the broken blinds in Jack’s bedroom. He groaned, rolling over and covering his head up, avoiding consciousness at all costs. His head ached and he felt sick to his stomach, almost as if he were hungover. Looking down, he noticed he was in nothing but his white button up and his boxers. Brief flashes of last night’s memories burned at the forefront of his brain.

 

Mark carrying him across the floor, Gianna running behind them to his car, Mark plopping Jack into the backseat as gently as he could without disturbing him. Mark’s father coming outside to assess the situation.

 

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Mark said quietly. “I thought he could handle it.”

 

“I tried to tell you, my son,” Lucien said apologetically. “He isn’t ready. He won’t be until he’s turned.”

 

“All I wanted was for you guys to like him.”

 

“We do,” Gianna piped up. “I mean, I do.”

 

Amelia’s voice was heard then. “We already adore Jack, darling. But he’s going to get hurt if you continue to string this out. You know it.”

 

“He can’t be hurt if I have to sire him,” Mark reassured them, although his voice waivered with his own uncertainty about that issue.

 

“You know he can,” Lucien said. Jack sputtered in the backseat, coughing up a little blood as he did so. He fought the urge to vomit in Mark’s car. “Get him home. We’ll discuss this another time.”

 

Without another word, Mark was in the car and driving as fast as he could back to Jack’s place. As Jack ducked in and out of awareness, his vision blurring and causing him to see double, he saw Mark’s white knuckles gripping the wheel, his jaw clenched tightly.

 

“They’re right,” he whispered seemingly to himself. He turned his head slightly to speak to Jack. “You’re going to get killed and it’s going to be because of me. I was a fool to think this would be okay. You’re only human. How could I think you could hold your own against vampires?” He jerked the wheel sharply to the right to turn onto the main street toward Jack’s house. “I’m just…such an idiot.” Silence for a moment as Jack tried to lift his head to say something, but couldn’t form the words.

 

The sun creeped further into Jack’s room, painting the wall with a brilliant glow. He slowly removed himself from his sheet-cocoon, sitting up and squeezing his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. Glancing downward, he saw that Mark had put an empty trash can next to his bed in case he got sick. Paying closer attention, he saw that he had already been sick in it. He sighed.

 

“I don’t even know if you’re awake,” Mark continued in his head. “You’re probably gonna be sick because of the blood. I don’t know why I did that. It just seemed right. I’m so sorry you had to see those people die. I’m sorry my brother is a goddamned monster. I’m sorry your best friend dragged you to a vampire harvest festival and could’ve gotten you hurt.”

 

“I—It’s…it’s…” Jack stammered, trying desperately to get Mark’s attention. He just wanted to hug him and let him know everything was fine. He knew Mark had his best interests in mind, deep down, he knew. This was simply a lapse in judgment and everything would be fine tomorrow.

 

“I hope you don’t remember any of this,” Mark said sadly. “It’s doubtful that my parents will want to see you again until you’re one of us. And that really sucks.”

 

In his bedroom, Jack picked up the trash can and vomited into it, flecks of red splattering the inside of the bin. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and jumped out of bed, walking to the shower. He stopped briefly to glance at himself in the mirror—his skin looked almost translucent, his eyes dark and hollow with black circles underneath, lips cracked open and bleeding. His stomach churned as the illness returned to him, forcing him to his knees in front of the toilet as he choked up more bile and blood. He retched again upon seeing it, hoping finally that there was nothing left to vomit.

 

Once he was able to stand, he hopped into the shower, trying to wash away the smell of vomit and sweat. As he lathered his hair, he tried to remember Mark bringing him inside…

           

Mark parked the car and gently lifted Jack from his slumber in the backseat, Jack’s eyelids fluttering as his eyes rolled back. He felt around Jack’s suit pockets for keys, finding some but cursing when he realized there were so many he would have to try. He sat Jack down briefly while he fumbled with them, eventually unlocking the door and carrying Jack inside again. He made his way up the stairs with his friend in tow, laying him gently on his bed. He took off Jack’s shoes for him, removed his suit jacket, undid Jack’s belt—

 

Jack’s eyes shot open then and he sat straight up, looking dead at Mark who was halfway through unbuckling the Irishman’s belt. Mark jumped backward, an “oh shit” escaping him as he tumbled onto the floor.

 

“Jack,” Mark breathed, crawling forward in surrender. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to get you ready for bed.”

 

Jack grabbed his vampire friend by the shirt collar and pulled him forward, their lips brushing slightly. Mark’s eyes dilated and he gulped, unsure of what to do or say. “I can do it myself, thank you,” Jack whispered menacingly, an eerie growl to his voice. Mark nodded quickly, trying to loosen Jack’s grip on his collar. When Jack realized what he was doing, he let go, trying to shake the strange feeling deep inside him. He finished taking off his own pants while Mark looked in the opposite direction, biting his lip so hard it started to bleed.

 

After Jack finished, he sat down on the bed, inviting Mark to sit beside him with a firm _pat_ on the mattress. Carefully, Mark crawled onto the bed beside Jack, sitting with hands crossed in his lap, not daring to look at Jack immediately.

 

“I’m sorry for that,” Jack said. “I’m not sure…what that was about, just now. Felt like it wasn’t me.”

 

The vampire looked over, an expression of worry poisoning his disposition. “I mean, it’s okay. I was just a little worried for a second that…you were maybe…” He raked a hand through his hair as he fought with the words. “Coming onto me?”

 

A shrill laugh exploded from Jack then, startling Mark once more. “Nah, you know better than that. Come on, we’re friends. Wish I could explain what the hell that was, though. Little bothersome.”

 

Mark wasn’t convinced entirely, but he stood up to leave Jack so he could rest.

 

“Hey, Mark?” Jack called once Mark was almost out the door. The vampire turned to look back at his friend. “I just wanted to say not to worry about tonight. I’m really glad I went. And…I’m sorry about the weird thing just now. Really.”

 

Jack hugged his knees close to him as he cowered in the corner of the shower, letting the hot water rush over him, through his hair, finally trickling off his nose. He felt like he was going to be ill again, but he tried to swallow the sickness as much as possible. There was nothing left in his stomach to purge. After what seemed like eternity, he pulled himself to his feet carefully, shutting off the water and stepping out to grab his towel. He refused to greet his appearance in the mirror. Comfy clothes from the day before were strewn about the bathroom, and he felt like it wouldn’t hurt to wear them one more day.

 

He made it back to his bedroom, thanking the gods that he didn’t have to go to work today…at least, he assumed so. He wasn’t entirely sure what day it was anymore. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

 

His phone was by his bedside table, plugged in and fully charged. Smirking at it and thanking Mark for being extra attentive, he picked it up and put in his passcode. The screen was flooded with notifications, all from Mark. Jack’s heart hammered in his chest and his stomach dropped.

 

_Are you okay? You haven’t texted me yet._

_Hey…just checking in._

_Seán, please forgive me. I’m so sorry. Please._

The missed calls section logged six calls from Mark.

“Fuck…” he said under his breath. How did he sleep through all this?

 

His reflexes acted faster than ever as he quickly punched in Mark’s contact information, pressing the “Call” option.

 

There wasn’t even a ring on Jack’s end before Mark picked up. Jack’s eyes lit up.

 

“Hey,” the vampire greeted breathlessly. “Hey, thank God. You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

           

“Better,” Jack said, smiling. He walked over to where a patch of sunlight drowned his hard wood floor and sat down in the warmth. “I’ve been sick all morning.”

 

Mark groaned. “I’m _so_ sorry. It was probably the blood you drank…I’m such an idiot—“

 

“No,” Jack cut him off fearlessly. “No. Don’t you dare blame yourself for that. I should’ve known better. I’m a human, I could’ve gotten a disease!”

 

“But…you didn’t, right?”

 

“Not that I know of,” the Irishman laughed. Humor always got him through the toughest of times. “I feel much better after vomiting all morning.”

 

“Well,” Mark began, hesitating somewhat. “You probably remember some of what I said last night. About my family. I can’t have you around them until you’re turned. And they’re really pushing that on me now.”

 

Jack’s expression didn’t change. “It’s okay,” he promised. “I think that’s fair. They shouldn’t have to worry about me comin’ in and fuckin’ things up.”

 

“They really like you, though,” Mark assured him. “That’s important to remember. They’re just…cautious. Rightfully so.”  

 

“Heh,” Jack choked out. “Yeah.” He glanced out his bedroom window as he got to his knees, the high-noon sun still stinging his eyes. His empty stomach grumbled slightly. “I think I should go now and get some breakfast. Er…lunch, maybe?”

 

His friend laughed on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, you better. Take care of yourself. If you’d like, you can stop by later.”

 

“I’ll think about it.” Jack grinned playfully. He heard in Mark’s tone the hint of a smile.

 

“Alrighty,” the vampire sighed. “Well, thanks for being cool about all this. Catch you later.”

 

“See ya.” Jack hung up before Mark had the chance to say anything else.

 

He made himself a very small, easy brunch of pancakes and eggs, with some orange juice. Usually he didn’t like having lunch alone at home, especially at the kitchen table. It felt strange to not be in front of his computer or watching TV, or even being at work. He tried to finish up quickly so that he wasn’t alone with his thoughts for too long.

 

As he picked up his orange juice to take a sip, he noticed a strange taste. His mind immediately recalled the taste of the blood from last night. Glancing down at his glass, he saw that the orange hue of the drink was replaced with a deep, thick crimson. Jack’s eyes widened and he gasped, instinctually dropping the glass and spilling it on the table. He stood up, knocking over his chair as he backed away from the mess. The red oozed out and flooded around his empty plate, dripping onto the floor and snaking in small lines toward him.

 

A sharp pain in his wrists caused him to shriek, bringing him to his knees. He saw, with horror, that the veins in his wrists had turned completely black. His shock overtook him and he could not cry out. Blinking rapidly, his vision blurring, he thought he could make out the shape of a figure crawling toward him very quickly with a jerky motion. The figure became humanoid and appeared right in front of him, dark eyes staring into his own, sharp fangs protruding from a jagged smile.

           

It was _Jack_. But it was all _wrong._

 

It had his hair. It had his face. But the eyes, the smile…

 

In a distorted, broken voice, the doppelgänger spoke. “ _I’m here now._ ”

 

Jack’s head shot up from the kitchen table, a scream erupting from his throat as his vocal cords raged against the instinct. First, he checked his wrists—blue veins as normal. His breakfast plate was empty. His orange juice was orange. Had he seriously dozed off just then? Looking wildly around the kitchen, he felt a sudden unease and quickly hopped up from the table. He backed toward the kitchen sink, grabbing for his phone from the counter. He didn’t even have to look at the screen as he pressed redial.

 

“Jack…?” Mark questioned, already on edge. “Why are you—“

           

“Can I come over?” Jack asked, heart still fluttering wildly. “Like, now?”

 

“Uh…sure. Let me just get dressed. Would you rather I come there?”

 

“ _No!_ ” Jack’s answer was immediate and desperate. “No. I’ll come there. I’ve…” He whipped his head toward the door, running to grab his car keys from the key hanger. “…I’ve already got my keys in my hand. I’m dressed. I’m heading out the door. Be there soon.”

 

“Oh…kay…” Mark said. “Whatever’s wrong, I hope it’s nothing serious.”

 

“I hope so too.” Jack hung up the phone as he hopped quickly into his car, turning the ignition and speeding onto the street.

 


	5. The Darkness that Lurks in our Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Cause they will run you down, down til the dark,  
> Yes, and they will run you down, down til you fall,  
> And they will run you down, down til you go,  
> Yeah, so you can't crawl no more.
> 
> And way down we go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what the hell I really never did an author's note for this. the fuck. (i'm writing this note on 2/17/18 and I'll give a special prize to anyone who finds it)

The muscles in his legs were still tense as he bounced his knee uncontrollably, causing a ripple to pool in the teacup he held with both hands. Mark noticed the jerky motion and reached a comforting hand toward Jack, patting the bouncing knee, and immediately Jack felt a sense of calm and warmth. His leg slowed down, the muscles relaxed, the tea didn’t spill out of the cup. He felt much better being with Mark. He felt better simply by not being alone.

 

“And that’s all that happened?” Mark asked finally, breaking the silence. Jack’s eyes widened in shock.

 

“That’s _all_ that happened?!” he cried. “Whaddya mean, ‘that’s all?’ A demon version o’ me just appeared right in front o’ me, crawlin’ on his hands and knees right _toward_ me…what—what was he s’posed to do? A fuckin’ magic trick? Do a little _dance_? Invite me _to the prom_?”

 

Mark knew that when Jack got worked up, his Irish temper got the better of him. He allowed Jack to continue his tirade until it was worked out of his system, and when there was more silence, he spoke again.

 

“I’m sorry,” Mark offered quietly. “I didn’t realize that would be a trigger for you. I understand how scary that must have been, I know. I’ve seen some shit in my day.” The vampire grinned over at his friend who sipped anxiously on the chamomile tea, enormous blue eyes staring at nothing. “But the thing—whatever it was—it’s gone now, right? No more. It was just an illusion. Probably some type of side effect of consuming human blood. We can go see a doctor if—“

 

“ _NO_ ,” Jack growled, pointing at Mark, his blue eyes icy with rage. “Absolutely not. I’m not crazy, I know what I saw.”

 

Mark’s hands went up, a sign of surrender. “I only meant a physician, to check and make sure you didn’t catch some kind of illness. Not a therapist. It’s alright. I believe you, completely.” 

 

The Irishman pondered this idea, mulling over the pros and cons. What would he even _say_ to a doctor? _Hi, I’m very ill today, might’ve caught some type of disease from some human blood I drank last night, saw my demon doppelgänger comin’ after me this mornin’ and also my orange juice turned into blood._

 

“I think maybe we give it a couple days,” Jack said finally. “See if I’m doing any better tomorrow morning. I go back to work, so I’m hoping the illness will have purged itself by then.”

 

“Okay,” Mark sighed, seeing Jack’s sunny side spring back to life. “That’s fine with me. I trust your judgment.” There was another uncomfortable silence as Jack noisily sipped on his tea. “You’re welcome to stay here tonight, if that’d help.”

 

Jack raised an eyebrow, thinking about Mark’s words carefully. “I guess,” he said finally, taking another sip. “It might help. I need to go get some overnight things.” A sense of dread filled the pit of his stomach as he thought about going back to his house, alone. Mark noticed the tension and met Jack’s gaze.

 

“I’ll go with you,” Mark said soothingly. “It’ll be alright.”

 

He didn’t want to admit it, but somewhere in the back of Jack’s mind, he heard the deep rumble of a maniacal laugh.

 

They arrived shortly after dark at Jack’s house. Jack opened the lock with the key, cautiously stepping inside. He flipped on the living room light switch to chase away anything in the darkness, but there was only an eerie quiet enveloping the house.

 

Mark urged him forward so that both could be inside together. He shut the door quietly behind him as Jack sneaked toward the stairway, not even so much as glancing toward the kitchen. The dishes from breakfast still sat on the table. Mark inhaled, attempting to catch scent of anything foreign and potentially dangerous. Everything was as normal as it could be.

 

Jack fumbled for the light switch at the top of the stairs so he didn’t have to stare down the dark hallway for too long. He ducked quickly into his room, turning on the bedside lamp and reaching carefully under the bed for his duffel bag. He threw open his closet door, not bothering to choose anything in particular to wear tomorrow. A pair of navy blue scrubs. An old red t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans to change into after work, just in case he decided not to come back home for a bit. He rushed to the bathroom to grab toiletries.

 

Downstairs, Mark creeped into the kitchen to inspect anything out of the ordinary. He sensed absolutely nothing, so he decided to help Jack by putting away the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. He put in the detergent and started it up, just in time for Jack to come running back downstairs.

 

“Okay, I’m ready, we can leave now,” Jack called out from his perch on the bottom-most stair.

 

Mark walked into the living room, flipping off the kitchen light before leaving the room.

 

“Everything’s alright, Jack,” he assured his skittish friend. “Whatever was here, it’s gone now. I didn’t catch scent of anything other than you here.”

 

“Cool,” Jack said absentmindedly, bounding with nervous energy. “We can _leave now_ , though. No need to be here.”

 

The vampire could feel the tension Jack was creating and nodded once, moving quickly toward the door. Jack opened it and was the first one out, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder as he ran toward Mark’s car.

 

“You gonna lock up?” Mark called. He had no sooner gotten the words out when Jack tossed the keys back at his friend, not looking behind him at the house. He threw the bag into the backseat and hopped into the passenger’s side, slamming the door closed.

 

Mark sighed. “Alrighty, then.” He found the appropriate key, locked the deadbolt, and made his way toward the car.      

It was a mostly quiet ride back to Mark’s townhouse. Jack fumbled with the radio dial, trying to find something to quell the raging thoughts in his mind. He settled on a mindless electronica song while Mark pursed his lips, thinking of some way to make all of this better again.

 

“What would you like for dinner?” Mark asked. “We can pick something up for you, or I can make you something.”

 

Jack thought about it. “Do you have anything to make soup? I want to make potato soup.”

 

Mark laughed. “Well, I can promise I don’t have any perishable food at my place, but we can make a pit stop at the grocery store on the way back.” The Irishman smiled warmly at the thought of homemade potato soup and not having to be alone for the night.

 

They stocked up on a few items—potatoes, onion, a soup starter, some spices, beer—and made it back to the townhouse in plenty of time to start dinner. Jack raced to the kitchen, storing the beer in the refrigerator, while Mark unloaded the soup supplies and began prepping the vegetables.

 

“Hey, let me do this,” Jack whined, taking the knife and potato away from Mark. “I said I wanted to make it.”

 

“I want to help,” Mark said, reaching into the bag to grab more potatoes to wash under the faucet.

 

“I don’t _need_ you to take care o’ me,” Jack grumbled in a low voice, not looking up from the potato as he sliced off the skin quickly.

 

“I’m not ‘taking care of you,’ I’m helping. That’s what friends do.” Mark got another knife and began peeling his potato. “Besides, it’s a lot more fun if we work together. It’ll get finished faster.”

 

His Irish friend shrugged, nearly finished peeling the potato. Once all the skin was removed, he placed it in the saucepot to be boiled later.

 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Mark said after a short amount of time that felt like ages. “I also don’t like to be by myself.”

 

Jack’s eyebrows knit together in thought. “Then how come you live on your own? Don’t you want a roommate?”

 

“Well,” Mark began, “I’m a little afraid I might accidentally eat them.”

 

A few beats ticked by after Jack immediately stopped peeling the potato, staring blankly at nothing while he pondered what his friend just said. He erupted into hysterical laughter, tears threatening the corners of his eyes.

 

“Oh my God,” Jack cried breathlessly, wiping away the moisture from his eyes. “I dunno why that was so funny. It was just so _you._ I didn’t expect it. Bravo.”

 

Mark rolled his eyes and grinned, proud of his humor. “I’ve got a million jokes like that. Just gotta give me time. I’m a fountain of comedy gold.”

 

Jack went back to peeling the potato, every now and then snickering as he thought about the joke again.

 

Everything afterwards happened so fast.

 

Jack dropped the knife, the potato slipping out of the other hand as he sucked in a sharp breath. A bead of crimson edged along a slice in his flesh, eventually trickling out at a more rapid pace. Mark’s senses were overwhelmed with sudden urges. The scent hit him like a ton of bricks as he focused his gaze on the cascading, glistening red. The uncontrollable desire to feed overtook him and he felt his fangs poking against the inside of his lip. His tongue slipped out, coating his upper lip as he glanced upwards to meet a terrified Jack, who backed away from the vampire instinctually.

 

“M—Mark?” Jack said meekly, trying to stop the bleeding with a hand towel. “What’s the matter?”

 

The beast within him fought against his good nature and he nearly glided toward Jack at inhuman speed. He grabbed Jack’s wrist, causing him to drop the hand towel, and held his hand up in the light, turning it to place the cut directly in the path toward his mouth. The small bones in his wrist popped and Jack yelped in pain.

 

“Mark!” Jack cried, trying to pull his hand away from his friend. “P—please, no…”

 

“Just…let me…” Mark moaned, nearly unintelligible as he almost drooled on Jack’s hand. “…Taste.” He opened his mouth, taking Jack’s finger into it as he closed his lips around it, sucking feverishly at the open wound. His eyes rolled back in near-ecstasy as the blood curled around his taste buds. Jack could feel the sharp fangs inside Mark’s mouth as his tongue laved at his wound.

Why was this so amazing? He’d had blood before. He’d been around bleeding humans. No one’s life force had ever called to him in the way that Jack’s did.

 

He felt Jack yanking tirelessly away from him, and when he opened his eyes again, he saw tears streaming from the blue eyes of his friend, a look of betrayal crossing him. Mark opened his mouth, released Jack’s wrist, and stumbled backwards, holding his head as a flash of light appeared before him.

 

It was for a mere few seconds, but Mark could almost make out the face of someone. A woman, dressed in colonial clothing. Soft brown waterfall curls surrounded her face. Brilliant eyes the color of sea foam. She was smiling at him, standing in a clearing in the woods. She began to untie her bodice as her supple breasts teased him against the fabric.

 

He came to, glancing wildly around the room. Jack stood on the complete opposite side, holding his wrist close to him and shaking like mad. The vampire stood, cautiously, grabbing onto the countertop for support. He breathed slow and heavy, trying to recall what exactly just happened.

 

“Jack,” Mark rasped. “I’m so…I’m so sorry. I have no idea what that was.”

 

The Irishman, defenses still at the ready, tensed up at the sound of his name. Mark moved carefully to his friend, hand out in surrender toward him.

 

“D—don’t come over here!” Jack’s stance changed as he braced himself closer to the wall, still clutching his wrist.

 

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Mark promised. “I didn’t mean to…that’s never happened to me before.”

 

Jack relaxed against the wall a little as Mark came closer, collapsing into his undead friend in a heap as he pulled him into an embrace. His sobs were gentle as Mark hugged him, running his fingers through the back of his hair. Every second he spent in Mark’s arms made him melt more and more, his fear giving way to contentedness.  

 

As Jack pulled away, he wiped away his tears, looking down at his hand. It was as if there had never been a cut. The dull, aching pain was replaced with slight warmth, and he felt the barest sense of euphoria pumping through his veins.

 

“Vampire saliva has healing properties,” Mark said, shrugging, “should we so choose. That was sort of a win-win for the both of us.”

 

Jack pondered for a moment. “What happened? Why did my blood make you so crazy?”

 

The vampire mulled over the thought. “I suppose it has something to do with the Prophecy. Since I’m your sire, I think your blood is supposed to be the be-all and end-all, so to speak. It is supposed to lure me in ways that no other human’s can.”

 

“That’s…” Jack said, swallowing. “…A little romantic.”

 

Mark’s eyes grew enormous. “Er, well…” He struggled to change the subject.

 

“That was awkward, I’m sorry,” Jack said. He glanced down at Mark’s mouth. “Could you please put your fangs away? Also, your eyes are weirdin’ me out. The different colors an’ all.”

 

“Yeah, sure.” Mark focused inward, a wave of calm rushing through him. He felt his fangs retract as he opened his eyes to a satisfied Jack.

 

His mind kept rushing back to the image in his subconscious. Jack noticed Mark’s distance and pried him for more answers.

 

“What was that all about? You seemed to zone out after you…drank my blood.” Jack found the words difficult to say.

 

“I saw someone,” Mark said in a low voice, almost as if he didn’t believe his own words. “Right after I stopped drinking, I saw almost like…a vision? No, I don’t think that was it. It was like a glimpse into the past. Maybe a fantasy world. A woman’s face. She was…undressing for me.”

 

Jack snorted. “Yeah, sounds like a fantasy alright.”

 

Mark shot a glare at his friend, who put up his hands in defense. “Anyway,” Mark continued, rolling his eyes. "I have no idea who she was or what it was about, but it was definitely brought on by your blood.” His eyes lit up as he whipped his head around to look at Jack again. “Can I try again? Maybe I’ll get something else this time.”

 

The Irishman took one huge step away from his friend. “You keep your fangs outta me, sir. I’ll have to fight ya.” 

 

Mark glanced down at Jack’s wrist, which was beginning to bruise and swell a bit. He dropped the idea immediately and ran to get some ice, dumping cubes onto a dish towel and wrapping them up. He put the makeshift ice pack on Jack’s wrist, moving Jack’s other hand to the top of the towel to hold it in place.

 

“Thanks,” Jack said quietly, taking notice of the ache that was beginning in his wrist. “You got any saliva tricks for this one too, or am I just fucked?”

 

Mark grimaced. “I’d say that one’s not gonna be so easy to fix. Hoping it’s just a sprain. If I broke it, I’ll pay the medical costs.”

 

“Yeah, you will,” Jack said, sneering. In all the excitement, he had forgotten about the scary moment from earlier in the day. He was glad to have done so, but wished that it didn’t have to be under these circumstances either. When was he going to catch a break?

 

“Oh,” Mark gasped, “the soup!”

 

Jack waved a hand, shaking his head. “Don’t bother with it. I’ll order takeout.” He fumbled in his pocket for his phone.

 

Mark moved away, clearly enveloped in his own thoughts yet again. He paced around in the kitchen, debating a phone call to his father. He’d probably just say that Mark was being careless and to go ahead and get the transformation over with already. He didn’t want to risk angering his family at this point, particularly Ingram and his father. He knew they were right. He just couldn’t bring himself to admit it to Jack.

 

The woman’s face kept appearing in his head, taunting him. He tried relentlessly to think of anything else, but she was all he kept recalling. Was this a remnant of his human memory?

 

Most importantly—was it possible to obtain more of these remnants through a similar means?

 

He glanced over at his friend who stood looking out the window, phone pressed to his ear with his shoulder as he nursed his sore wrist. Perhaps Jack would be willing to help him. Perhaps not.

 

Perhaps he would do a damn good job convincing him.


	6. "Merry Christmas"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Your eyes are swallowing me,  
> Mirrors start to whisper,  
> Shadows start to see.  
> My skin's smothering me,  
> Help me find a way to breathe."

It took a fair amount of convincing on Mark’s part, but Jack finally pulled through. Mark waited patiently for his friend to work through the issues he was having, whatever demons were haunting him, before he proposed his question. Jack hadn’t had a bad night for a couple of weeks when Mark first came to him, very cautiously and kindly.

 

“You wanna do _what_?!” the Irishman had asked incredulously. “What the fuck d’ya _mean_ , ‘give you my blood’?!”

 

“Just a little,” Mark begged. “Please. I have an idea that I think will potentially work for the both of us.

 

Jack rolled his eyes, throwing down a box of decorations onto the floor. They jingled noisily as they hit the ground. He crossed his arms in the fashion of a teenager throwing a temper tantrum.

 

“My parents are gonna be here in _two days_ and you spring this shit on me?”

 

“You’re right,” the vampire sighed, looking down at the ground. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It was kinda selfish of me.” He waited until he heard Jack tapping his foot impatiently to look up at him, pulling the “puppy dog face.”

 

“ _Argh!_ ” Jack yelled, angrily pulling a fancy string of baubles from the decoration box. “You are _ridiculous_. You’re barely a vampire. More like a goddamned succubus.”

 

“Rude!” the Korean said, feigning shock.

 

Jack hastily began decorating his house with the Christmas baubles, and Mark helped him take some tree decorations out of the box. He began placing ornaments on the tree, but had no sooner gotten the first one put on when Jack stopped him.

 

“ _Nooooo_ , that one doesn’t go there, you’re doin’ it wrong.” He rushed over to the tree and grabbed the ornament away from Mark, positioning it with great precision.

 

Mark huffed and went back to sit on the couch. “Fine. You’re being a huge baby right now. Do you need a drink?”

 

Jack growled and gritted his teeth. “No.” He stopped fixing the ornament and sighed deeply. “Maybe.”

 

“I’ll make you something. Bourbon and Coke?”

 

“Yes, please.” The human turned to face his friend, eyes full of remorse, shoulders slumped in defeat. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be this way. It’s just…I don’t wanna have to explain bite marks and being lethargic to my parents. I already have to explain _this_ in a way that makes sense.” He pointed to the brace wrapped around his fractured wrist.

 

Mark’s mouth formed a hard line. “Yeah, we’ll figure something out that you can tell them. I’m really sorry about that, still.” He thought for a moment before continuing. “But, I mean, I didn’t exactly…plan on drinking your blood straight from the source. I don’t feel quite comfortable enough yet. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

 

Jack cocked his head to one side, narrowing his eyes in a concerned manner. “Really?” His hand rested on his chin, his finger parting his lips so that he could chew on his fingernail. “Then how?”

 

And so, the very next day, Mark sat in his office, waiting for Jack to bring a bag of his own blood to him during his lunch break.

 

Jack was extremely nervous asking the phlebotomist about such a request, particularly since Mark wasn’t actually present with him in the room. He knew that Mark was just afraid that the scent of Jack’s blood would send him into overdrive again, so he told him to wait in his office while the deed was carried out. When he walked in to the lab, he saw that it was empty, save for Amber, who was playing on her phone.

 

“Hi,” she said looking up, shocked that Jack had come in. She sat down her phone on the counter. “What are you doing here? I’m not supposed to be seeing anyone right now. Did I miss a patient?”

 

“Um…” Jack hesitated, scratching at his wrist brace. “I, er…I need your help. You know how to draw blood, right?”

 

Amber’s eyes grew wide. “Yes? Why do you ask?”

 

Jack fought for the right words to say before slamming the door closed, moving briskly toward Amber, who clutched the counter behind her in surprise.

 

“I need you to draw a pint o’ blood from me, put it in a bag, and let me have it,” he whispered hastily. “Please. It’s for a…it’s for somethin’ important.”

 

“I feel like…” she began, voice breaking. “I feel like this breaks _so much_ protocol.”

 

“Amber, please,” Jack begged. “I’m, er, I’m _very ill_ , and I need to have this blood in case I need a sudden…transfusion.”

 

Her brilliant blue eyes stared into his as she silently called him on his bullshit.

 

“Okay,” he said finally, stone face breaking. “You just really have to trust me on this, okay? It’s something very important that I can’t tell you about right now. I won’t say anything if you won’t.” He held out his good hand to shake hers with their secret handshake. When she was very still, he nodded toward his hand and flashed a goofy smile.

 

“I swear to God, Seán,” she growled, “if you get me in fucking trouble, I will _end_ you.”

 

“Worth the risk.” She met his hand and they quickly performed their sacred symbol of friendship. She gathered the materials for the withdrawal as Jack sat, rolling his sleeve up and repeatedly clenching his fist to get the vein to appear. Amber tied a rubber tourniquet around the bottom of Jack’s bicep, flicking the vein a few times before wiping it with a sanitary cloth. She prepared the tip of the thick needle to break the skin after it was connected to the blood bag.

 

“Little pinch,” she warned as she pushed the needle in. Jack sucked in a breath as he watched it sink in his flesh. “Sorry. There’s a reason I still train with Mark. He’s so much better at it than I am.”

 

“Yeah, can’t imagine why,” Jack lied as he tried to focus his thoughts anywhere but the blood bag slowly being filled.   

 

Her red curly hair gently tickled Jack’s forearm as she focused intently on her task. “We’ll be done soon,” she promised. “You ate lunch before this, right?”

 

“Uh-huh,” Jack lied again, swallowing dryness out of his mouth. “Can I get one o’ those little cookies, though? And some juice? Since I was such a good patient, an’ all.”

 

Her ruby lips parted to reveal a pearly smile. “Absolutely.”

 

She patched him up with a wrap-around bandage and gauze, gave him _two_ cookies and a box of apple juice, and closed up the blood bag. It was disgustingly warm as he palmed it, turning it over in his hand.

 

“Remember,” she reminded him, pressing a manicured finger to her lips. “Not a word. This didn’t happen.”

 

“Thank you so much,” he said gratefully. “I’ll repay you soon.”

 

“Dinner would be nice,” she called as he opened the door. He halted, smiling a little before turning to her and winking.

 

He made his way down the hallway, the blood bag in one of the pockets of his polar bear-printed scrubs. His head felt swimmy as he squinted at the office door numbers, looking for 403. Mark’s office was here somewhere. He opened one of his cookies and took a bite, still glancing around for the number.

 

When he finally found it, he knocked twice, and heard a very quiet “come in” from inside.

 

Mark sat at his desk, hands folded properly, staring at Jack intently as he walked inside.

 

“Nice to see you,” he said in his gravelly, low voice. “Close the door, please.”

 

Jack did as he was instructed and walked toward the desk, pulling out the blood bag as he did so.

 

“Here ya go,” he said, plopping it down in front of Mark, “merry Christmas.”

 

The vampire’s pupils dilated as he reached a little too quickly for the bag, picking it up and squeezing it gently.

 

“It’s still very warm,” he said, a grin crossing his face.

 

“Yep,” Jack agreed, plopping down in one of the seats directly in front of Mark’s desk. He finished off his first cookie and started to open the second one. “I just got it done. Skipped lunch for it.”

 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Mark said, concerned. “You could’ve passed out.”

 

“I _didn’t_ , though,” the Irishman said through a mouthful of cookie. He took a sip of his juice. “You’re welcome.”

 

“Thank you, _so_ much,” the vampire offered. “I’m still bewildered this is even happening right now.” His eyes were so full of gratitude and…hunger, Jack surmised. He had never seen anyone look at anything the way Mark stared at this bag of blood.

 

“Well?” Jack prompted, tearing Mark away from his fantasy. “Ya gonna drink it or are ya just gonna cum all over it?”

 

“Oh, gross,” Mark groaned, rolling his eyes. “That’s just…a weird image.” He narrowed his eyes. “Also, you should probably leave. I don’t want you to be present if…something happens.”

 

“But…” Jack started. “I wanna be here. It’s not fair. I did all the work and you get to just drink it without me bein’ here?”

 

“ _Yeah_ , for your own damn good,” Mark said. “I could hurt you again. I don’t wanna do that. It’d just be another thing to explain to your parents. Although if you end up _dead_ , that’d be a little harder to explain, you think?”

 

“Stop tryin’ to scare me, ya big wuss,” Jack taunted. “Just drink my blood already. I’ll sit here nice an’ quiet. I won’t say or do anything. If you try anything I’ll just scream and someone’ll come save me.”

 

The vampire exhaled sharply. “ _Fine_. Goddammit. Always gotta have your way. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

 

Mark stood, fetching a large coffee mug from a side table near his desk. He used scissors to open the blood bag, pouring the contents into the mug. Jack watched with morbid curiosity as the sickly-thick crimson oozed out of the bag, filling the mug with warmth and life. The smell hit Mark immediately, almost incapacitating him, but he managed to overcome it. He moved quickly back to his seat in front of Jack, holding the mug in both hands.

 

“Listen to me,” Mark grumbled lowly. “Don’t make _any_ sound or movement. Don’t be a distraction. If I start to move toward you, chances are I will have the intention of hurting you. Don’t immediately assume you’re going to die. Stay right where you are and I will work through it, am I clear?” Jack nodded quickly, his blue eyes wide with fear. “Good.”

 

Mark inhaled the scent one last time as he brought the mug closer to his mouth. He glanced over the lip of the mug at Jack, and his eyes had already changed to their vampiric colors.

 

“Remember,” Mark growled. He pressed the mug to his lips and tilted it a little. Jack watched as he slurped up the blood as quietly as he could. A pleasurable moan escaped Mark’s throat as he drank, his eyes closing in ecstasy. He drank a little more quickly now, and Jack could hear an audible gulping sound. Mark had finally reached the end of his supply, and Jack had reached the point of no return.

 

Immediately, Mark dropped the mug, going back to the bag to try and desperately slurp more blood out of it. Jack’s eyes were as big as saucers as he took note of what his friend was willing to do for more blood.

 

It was then that the vampire’s eyes met Jack’s. Jack remembered Mark’s words—he didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. The vampire inched toward him in a predatory stance, fingers curved like claws as he stalked his prey.

 

“M—More…” Mark grunted as he crawled across his desk, his hand reaching out to wrap around Jack’s throat. Again, Jack obeyed Mark’s every command. Mark moved to a sitting position, swinging his legs around to hang over the front of his desk. He took Jack’s face in both hands, moving in toward his neck. The vampire inhaled deeply, and Jack heard him open his mouth, his breath oddly hot on the side of his throat. As the sharp pierce of fangs appeared right on the side of his neck, everything went still.

 

What was only a few seconds felt like an eternity as Mark withdrew his fangs from Jack’s neck, holding his head with both hands as he stumbled backward, falling against his desk. He stifled a scream as his vision flashed white.

 

A schoolyard. Children dressed in clothes of a foreign era running around, playing with small wooden toys and cloth dolls. Mark was approached by a group of them, who stole his toy away from him as they taunted him and ran off. Instead of chasing the group of children, he cried softly, running blindly away from the playground and into the woods.

 

He blinked again and he was back in the future, breathing heavily as he tried to get his bearings. He slowly stood, cautiously moving back to his desk chair. He saw that Jack still had not moved.

 

“You can…” Mark said, still catching his breath. “You can speak now.”

 

A high-pitched scream erupted from Jack, and with cat-like reflexes Mark jumped across the desk and slapped his palm over Jack’s mouth, muffling the sound. The vampire squeezed his eyes shut as he let out a sharp breath.

 

“Not…like that…for the love of God.”

 

Jack was borderline hyperventilating as sweat beaded on his forehead. He clutched his chest as he tried to calm himself down, closing his eyes and mentally counting to ten. Mark allowed him a few moments to contain himself.

 

“I’m—I’m so sorry,” Jack whispered. “That just…scared the absolute hell out o’ me. I’m so sorry. I’ll never _ever_ watch you drink my blood like that again. I’m sorry.”

 

Mark stood, grunting in pain from his woozy head, and walked over to comfort Jack. He knelt down to him in the chair, embracing him the best he could, while Jack buried his face in his friend’s shoulder.

 

“Please don’t apologize,” Mark comforted. “It was my fault. I should’ve known better than to let you stay.”

 

“N—no it’s not your fault,” Jack hiccupped through small convulsions. He was beginning to feel much more safe and secure with Mark holding him. “It’s mine, I’m dumb. I’m a big dumb dummy.”

 

Mark pulled away to have a look at his mortified friend. Tears had welled up in Jack’s eyes, but none of them made it down his face. He was impressed by the Irishman’s vigor.

 

“I got another small vision,” Mark said. “It was an old schoolyard. I think it was when I went to school as a child. My toy got taken by some kids so I ran away…”

 

Jack frowned. “Those bastards,” he said sullenly.

 

“I think I’ve also realized that it doesn’t matter how much of your blood I drink. I only get small snippets of memory.” He chewed on his bottom lip absentmindedly. “I’d love to continue this experiment, for as long as you’ll let me.” Jack dropped his head, staring up at Mark through his eyelashes. “You don’t have to keep going back to get full bags of blood drawn. I promise. I’ll only take a little bit if that’s okay. Maybe once every couple of weeks or once a month.”

 

The dark-haired Irishman sighed. “Promise?”

 

Mark held out his little finger. “Pinky swear. And I won’t ever take it without your consent.”

 

Jack linked his pinky with Mark’s. He figured it was time to get used to the idea of having a vampire as a best friend, and what better way than by sharing his life force?

 

“Now, about Christmas,” Jack began, changing the subject.

 

“I’m all ears,” Mark said, resting his elbows on Jack’s knee while simultaneously resting his chin on his clenched fists.

 

“I think it’s high time you met my parents.”


	7. B Negative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I won't soothe your pain.  
> I won't ease your strain.  
> You'll be waiting in vain.  
> I got nothing for you to gain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fam it's been a while, sorry about that!!! I got injured at work and it took a lot out of me, but I'm back for now. Hope you enjoy!!
> 
> *I don't know Jack's actual parents' names so here are some generic ones and stuff thx*

The excitement and nervousness that Mark felt in the pit of his stomach raged on for most of the next couple of days. Jack had gone to pick up his family at the airport and left the vampire in charge of finishing meal prep for the Christmas dinner. Mark tugged at his shirt collar and adjusted his tie for the five-hundredth time as he worked patiently in Jack’s kitchen, slicing the ham into perfect, equal pieces with great precision. If it weren’t for the fact that he was dead, he might be sweating like a whore in church.

 

Once the table was set, candles were lit, and wine was poured into each of the glasses, he could hear his friend pulling into the neighborhood from about a mile away. _Just in time_ , he told himself, adjusting his clothing once more before the onslaught. He made his way carefully into the living room to wait and stare at the door, brushing some lint off of his slacks and making sure his wine colored button-up was wrinkle-free.

 

Jack put the key into the lock and turned the doorknob, and time slowed down to a crawl as the door creaked open. The first thing through the door was a large plaid suitcase, a crumpled tag hanging from the handle littered with nonsensical letters and numbers. The person carrying the suitcase, a man in his upper sixties for sure, wasn’t looking up as he entered, the brim of his black flat cap covering his vision as he made sure not to trip. The man sat the suitcase in the corner of the room and turned to help his wife, Jack’s mother, with her floral print suitcase and leather handbag. Last in was Jack, carrying a small poinsettia in a pot.

 

Nobody looked up until Jack made his way toward the center of the living room, all smiles while his parents removed their coats and placed them on the coat hanger. Jack sat the poinsettia on the center of the coffee table and held his fist out to Mark, who bumped it with his own. The Korean-German man’s stomach was doing flip-flops as his brown eyes stared helplessly at the older couple.

 

“Mother, Daddy,” Jack announced. “This is my friend, Mark. He’s gonna be joining us today for our festivities.”

 

Jack’s mother, a dark-haired woman with bright blue eyes, looked up at Mark. Her gaze seemed quizzical, but she smiled through whatever feeling she had inside her. Mark surmised that she simply didn’t know what to say, or how to take this. Did she even _know_ that he would be there? Did Jack tell them?

 

His father’s mouth pressed into a hard line but his eyes were kind. He stepped forward gingerly and Mark tensed, breath catching in his throat. The Irish man reached his hand out, a smile playing at the corners of his lips beneath his mustache. Mark grabbed his hand and shook twice, releasing it. Jack’s father instinctively withdrew his hand and placed it back in his pocket.

 

“Hello, lad,” his father said in a gruff voice, accent thick. “I’m Daniel, Danny for short.”

 

“It’s very nice to meet you, sir,” Mark choked out, a huge grin on his pale face.

 

“You as well,” Danny responded. He looked behind him to Jack’s mother, who was stepping cautiously toward them, handbag in both hands as she studied Mark curiously. “This is my wife, Mary,” he said, wrapping a protective arm around her lower back. She reached her hand toward Mark, who took it gently in his hand and leaned down to nearly press his lips to it. Mary’s eyes widened at Mark’s touch, awestruck.

 

“It’s an honor, madam,” Mark said, his charismatic nature returning to him for the first time in days.

 

“A pleasure,” she said dismissively, withdrawing her hand from his. “ _My_ , your hands are cold!” An uncomfortable chuckle escaped her as Mark looked downward, clearing his throat.

 

“Sorry,” he said. “I ran out of hot water at the faucet and they’re still chilly from rinsing off some dishes.” He was getting pretty good at making excuses for his body temperature.

 

The older couple gave each other a quick look, noticeable by Mark, as they determined silently what to do or say next. Jack cleared his throat, now standing beside Mark and smiling at his parents.

 

“Well?” Jack said. “Dinner is ready, let’s go eat something while you guys get to know each other.” Jack’s parents gave one last reassuring look at Mark, as if to say _we don’t hate you, we just aren’t sure what to think of you._ Mark smiled as they passed him into the kitchen, then shot a look at Jack to his left, who shrugged.

 

“It’s alright,” Jack whispered. “They’re just confused.”

 

“You _did_ tell them I’d be here, right?”

 

“ _Heh!_ ” Jack cried. “…no.”

 

Mark’s anger bubbled up beneath the surface, but he knew better than to rip out his friend’s throat right here and now. He almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

 

“Do you remember Thanksgiving?” Jack prompted, raising his eyebrows. “When you didn't bother telling me about the entire vampiric species being at the party?”

 

Mark sighed, rolling his eyes. "Fair enough."

 

Jack put his hands on Mark’s tense shoulders and began leading him to the kitchen.

 

Once everyone but Jack was seated, plates already filled with food, Mark took note of Jack’s hesitation to taking off his light jacket. He could tell he hadn’t gotten around to showing his parents his wrist yet, and that the sleeve sneakily hid the brace well enough on its own. _Of course,_ the vampire thought, _yet another thing he hasn’t told them._

 

In one swift motion, the jacket was off of Jack and on the back of the chair, and Mark could swear he had never seen anyone remove any article of clothing quicker in his life _or_ his afterlife. Jack quickly sat at his place at the table, looking around at the eyes staring at him. He lifted his bad wrist toward his glass of wine and took a sip, studying his parents’ gaze.

 

“Son…” Danny began. “What is…that?”

 

His mother instinctively reached toward his hand, gently palming the brace with a look of concern on her face.

 

“What did you _do,_ Seán?” she asked.

 

Jack took one last look at Mark, who stared into his wine glass, a plate full of untouched food before him. When he realized the vampire wasn’t interested in getting him out of this one, he sighed and turned back to his parents.

 

“I fell.” He grasped desperately for something more believable. “Mark and I were…it was after work, one night. Raining a lot. I was trying to go down the stairs at the hospital and…where they’re metal stairs an’ all, they get slick in the rain…I slid on one and fell right on the bone. Snapped in half.” Again, Jack turned to Mark, who had lifted the wine glass to his lips and stared wide-eyed at the Irish family. He tossed his head back, an enormous gulp of wine funneling down his throat.

 

“Mark, is that true?” Mary asked.

 

“Mm-hmm,” the vampire agreed, nodding slowly and setting down his glass. “Yes. Yes, _ma’am_. I tried to grab him but he was already down the stairs before I realized what happened.”

 

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Just…making sure there wasn’t any…abuse going on.” His gaze shifted back and forth between Mark and Jack. Mark, in the middle of another gulp of wine, nearly choked on the crimson liquid. Jack spit out his bread in a fit of disbelieving laughter.

 

“ _Dad!_ ” he cried. “You don’t actually _think_ that—“

 

Danny raised his hands in defense. “I’m just sayin’…”

 

“Me and _Mark_?!” The Irishman threw back his head in a howl, tears streaming down his face. Mary and Danny were floored, and Mark was pouring himself a second glass of wine and making sure to avoid any eyes. “Come on, Da, you ought’a know better than _that_. If I were gay, don’t ya think I’d’ve found a better-lookin’ guy?”

 

“Hey!” Mark couldn’t help but let that one slip. “Come on, I look just fine, what’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“So…” Mary began, trying to sort this out in her head. “You’re… _not_ …a couple?”

 

“ _No,_ ” Mark answered much too quickly. “No, ma’am.”

 

“Absolutely not,” Jack reassured. “I’m sorry if I made it seem that way. Didn’t mean to. Mark’s kinda just…the only real friend I have here.”

 

There was an uncomfortable silence, and Mark shifted in his seat. Danny cleared his throat and scratched his head.

 

“But the thing about falling after work is true,” Mark spoke up. “That really happened. No abuse here.” Jack grinned at his parents.

 

“Well, we were willing to support you one-hundred percent,” Mary said, her wine glass pressed to her lips as she took a quick sip. “Such a shame, too. You are quite handsome.”

 

If Mark could blush, he was sure his face would have been as red as a beet. “Thank you,” he said meekly, looking down at his plate and grinning from ear to ear. Once he noticed that he still had yet to touch his food, his smile faltered and his eyes grew big. He knew he _really_ shouldn’t be indulging in human food…but if Jack’s parents asked him, what would the excuse be then?

 

He sucked in a sharp breath and started cutting into his portion of ham that Jack had put on the plate for him. The meat steamed and the smell was odd to Mark’s enhanced senses. He stabbed his piece and lifted it toward his mouth, staring at the texture and color before slowly taking it with his teeth. He quickly popped the entire piece in his mouth, mulling over the “flavor” and chewing methodically before swallowing. It didn’t taste like _anything_. He hadn’t had human food in _decades_ , and he was sure the last time was a complete accident. It would probably later result in purging his stomach over the toilet after the family had retired for the night.

 

He did his best to quickly finish the (thankfully) small heap of food Jack had put on the plate for him, respectfully listening to Jack converse with his family. It pleased him to see Jack so excited and happy for the first time in a while. He didn’t want to step in and make anything more awkward for the young Irishman. All he wanted was the ease of getting through this meal in one piece and for the parents to adore him.

 

After dinner, Jack brought out the Christmas cake he was so excited to present—a red velvet recipe he had gotten online with homemade buttercream frosting. Mark played bartender, mixing cocktails for Mary and treating Danny to as many bourbon shots as he could manage. Jack was already popping the cork on his second bottle of wine. Mark felt an unnerving feeling in the pit of his stomach, and knew that he was likely going to need blood to offset all of this human food nonsense. He was sure he could sneak back into the cooler in the phlebotomy lab and take something, but this night was going to need to wrap up, and quickly.

 

The family plus Mark was seated at the table still, chatting idly as the alcohol began to really kick in. Jack giggled uncontrollably at everything, the bridge of his nose and his cheeks flush with bright pink. Mary smiled a lot more, and Danny had loosened up with his formalities.

 

“So, how did you two become friends?” Mary wanted to know. Jack and Mark looked at each other.

 

“He came into the hospital for his first day o’ work,” Jack told them, “and I didn’t like him at all. All the girls were really into him, though. I guess that’s why I didn’t like him. Then we really got to know each other. I met his family at Thanksgiving. It was…nice.”

 

“Oh?” Danny said. “So you’ve met his family, then?”

 

“Things _must_ be getting serious,” Mary chuckled as she took sips of her cocktail.

 

Mark laughed nervously. “Well, it was a request by my mother, of course. Gotta keep mom happy, and all that.”

 

Mary crooked at finger at Mark from across the table. “He’s got brains, boy,” she reminded her son.  “Listen to ‘im.”

 

“So, where are you from, Mark?” Danny asked. “Where does your family live?”

 

“Forgive me for being so blunt, dear,” Mary began, “but I see a bit of Asian heritage in you. Mostly your face. Am I correct in saying so?”

 

“ _Ma!_ ” Jack cried, glaring at her. “Don’t be rude.”

 

Mark held up his hand to silence his friend. “It’s okay, Jack, it isn’t rude.” Turning to Mary, he put on his most polite smile and bowed his head slightly forward to both of them. “Yes, I am half Korean and half German. My parents are—“

 

Mark then remembered that he didn’t remember. He had no idea who his _true_ parents were. All he knew was what Lucien had given him. He had to play this safely.

 

“Erm—“ the vampire choked, lost for words. Jack noticed the struggling and tried to fill in the gap.

 

“ _He’s adopted_ ,” the drunken Irishman blurted out. Mary and Danny’s mouths were agape as they looked from Jack to Mark, and no one was sure in that moment who was more shocked.

 

“Mark, that’s…wonderful!” Mary exclaimed, downing the rest of her cocktail.

 

“It’s so hard to find parents who are willing to adopt these days,” Danny said reassuringly. “Don’t worry. We think it’s very kind of your parents to have adopted.”

 

Mark smiled a toothy, confused grin. “Y-yeah…”

 

“So, what are their names?” Mary continued. Mark noticed her empty glass and grabbed it, jumping up to mix another drink.

 

“My mother’s name is Amelia,” Mark called over his shoulder from the makeshift “bar” at the counter near the sink. “My father is Lucien.”

 

“Oh _my_ ,” Danny said. “Exotic.”

 

“My mother is of African heritage and my father is Latin American,” Mark explained, pouring various alcohol and drink mixes into the cocktail shaker. “My older brother Ingram is Saudi Arabian.”

 

“ _Wooowww,_ ” Mary said, her face in complete shock. “What a wonderfully _different_ family!”

 

“Oh, you have _no_ idea,” Jack said, gulping down the rest of the wine in his glass.

 

Mark ignored the comment and continued. “My younger sister Gianna is from British Columbia. She’s probably the most normal one of the bunch.”

 

“It’s very exciting that you get to share so many different cultures within one family,” Danny offered sincerely. “We’re just…a bunch of Irish drunks.”

 

Jack was the first one to burst out laughing, followed by Mary, Danny, and then Mark.

 

Once the drinks were finished, Mary and Danny went to the guest bedroom that Jack had set up. It was well past midnight, and Jack was happy to have his parents staying at his house rather than having to see them off to a hotel. Mark helped the drunken Jack clean up the kitchen, putting away dishes and glasses and the leftover alcohol.

 

“Hey, Jack?” Mark began after the cleanup had started to slow down.

 

“Yeah?” Jack was in a state of hyper-awareness, the alcohol taking over most of his motor functions.

 

“I need to have some…sustenance,” Mark said. “I’m gonna have to drive over to the hospital. Thought you might want to come with me.”

 

“Hell _yeah!_ ” Jack cried a little too loudly. Mark shushed him and pointed hastily upstairs toward the guest bedroom. Jack blushed, covering his mouth. “Right. Sorry.”

 

Once they were seated and warm in Mark’s vehicle, Jack turned up some music. He decided on a heavy metal station in his current state of mind, head-banging to the nonsensical lyrics. Mark appreciated the noise, trying to drown out his hunger.

 

“Your folks are really nice,” Mark said, attempting small talk while his friend kept slinging his head around.

 

“Yeah!” Jack said between the drum beats. “They’re great. Really supportive.” He stopped head-banging, breathing heavily as if he’d just run a marathon. “Sorry if they made you feel awkward. About the ‘us being together’ thing. Or the family thing.”

 

“Oh, no,” Mark waved off the idea. “They were okay. I would’ve thought the same thing most likely.

 

“Okay.” Jack didn’t sound convinced, but Mark shrugged it off anyway.

 

Mark pulled into his special parking spot at the hospital and turned off the ignition, killing Jack’s rendition of whatever music was playing. The Irishman seemed very disappointed.

 

“You wanna wait in the car while I run in and grab a bag?” Mark asked. He knew the answer before Jack jumped out of the vehicle, lagging behind his heels like a young puppy.

 

They creeped steadily down the hallways. Everything was eerily still around Christmastime at UCLA, especially with most student medical trainees gone for the holidays. Jack was overly hyperactive, acting silly for the sake of being silly, and Mark was trying to get him to come down from his high. Mark scanned his key-card to enter the phlebotomy lab, and then again to enter the enormous cooler.

 

Inside were various medical paraphernalia—bodily fluid samples from every place you could think of—lined along metal shelf after metal shelf. It was so dark that Jack’s vision had to adjust before he could step forward to join Mark. One solitary window on the opposite side of the room provided all of the illumination. Jack had never been in this area of the medical center, and he looked around in awe. At one point he tried to pick up a stool sample in a jar and Mark had to chastise him.

 

Finally, Mark found the refrigerator where the blood samples were normally kept. He unlocked it, opened it, and searched through the bags. He tried to find the most recent sample taken, but in a blood type he knew he enjoyed: B negative. Finally, he found what he was looking for, marking the sample from the checklist on the refrigerator door.

 

Jack seemed surprised. “Don’t you think they’ll be looking for that?” he asked curiously.

 

Mark shook his head. “There’s a reason I try to get extra samples from patients. As head phlebotomist, I’m allowed to do that.” He looked over both shoulders suspiciously. “Let’s head out before someone sees us. You’re not authorized to be back here anyway.”

 

The pair wasted no time in exiting the cooler. As Mark turned to lock up the cooler and turn off the lights of the phlebotomy lab, they were met by a young redhead. Amber was closing the staff refrigerator after grabbing her lunchbox.

 

“Jack? Dr. Fischbach?” she questioned in a peculiar way, tilting her head. “What are you doing here? It’s two in the morning.”

 

“I could ask you the _same thing_ , lassie!” Jack said, pointing toward her and slurring his words.

 

“Are you _drunk?_ ” she said, squinting at him and scowling. “And I’m working, dipshit. It’s finally time for me to go home.”

 

Mark tried to calm the tension. “He’s just really tired, Amber. He didn’t mean to act out.” The Korean-German vampire turned to his friend, who seemed completely out of the present moment. Amber wasn’t convinced.

 

“Right,” she whispered, nodding slowly. “Look, just don’t get in trouble, okay?” It was then that she noticed the blood bag. “Running a sample this late, Dr. Fischbach?”

 

Mark’s eyes grew wide and he glanced over at Jack, who also looked over at the vampire in a delayed manner.  “Erm…yes.”

 

Amber had a different reaction to her superior than she did to Jack. “Okay. Just don’t stay out too late. It’s Christmas!”

 

The vampire laughed stoically. “We won’t.”

 

The three stared at each other awkwardly.

 

“Oh!” Amber exclaimed. “I suppose you need me to leave. I’ll…see myself out.” Mark nodded at her and smiled. Jack’s glazed vision tried to follow where she was going. Before she left, she turned to face the two again. “Seán…take care of yourself, okay?” she said.

 

He nodded and grinned. “Of course. Anything for you.”

 

His caramel voice made her weak in the knees. She composed herself before answering. “Thank you. I’ll see you soon. Still gotta take me out, remember?”

 

“I could never forget.” He flashed a brilliant white smile as she blushed and waved timidly, leaving the laboratory.

 

Amber had no sooner walked away when Mark walked toward the microwave, taking a mug out of the cabinet and pouring the blood into it. He put the timer on three minutes and placed the mug in, closing the door. The soft whirring of the microwave filled the silence while Jack waited patiently for his friend to finish.

 

“I can’t drink this here,” Mark told Jack as he removed the mug, piping hot and steaming. “Let’s head out toward the car.”

 

Jack trailed along behind his friend again, who cautiously sipped on his drink while walking. At two in the morning, and as dark as it was, Mark had little worry as to who was going to see him. It never hurt to be careful regardless.

 

His stomach was already starting to feel normal again, regardless of how much human food was inside it. He didn’t think he would have to be sick after such a nice Christmas dinner after all.

 

They got back into the car, the heavy metal blaring on from earlier once Mark turned over the key. He drove with one hand while the other clutched the blood-filled mug, glancing over at Jack every now and then.

 

“Ya know,” Mark began, “I’d offer you a drink, but…not after last time.”

 

Jack pondered the idea in his incapacitated state. “What if I wanted it?”

 

“ _No_.” Mark was stern and to the point. “Not a chance.”

 

“I mean, maybe it was just the one time where it made me sick,” Jack proposed. “I need to get used to drinking it anyway.”

 

“Jack,” Mark said, “you’re a _human_. If you were a vampire it’d be different.”

 

A dark sensation lured Jack into a trap from within. It almost felt as if cold fingers were wrapped around his neck and the other sinister hand snaked around his chest and held him against the seat.

 

“But…I want it.”

 

Mark was completely taken aback. “I said no, Jack. That’s enough asking. Okay? I really care about you and I’m worried this will take you to a dark place.”

 

The bassy rumble of laughter sounded in the back of Jack’s mind. It kept telling him to fight Mark, to take the blood and try a sip anyway. Whatever it was, it was bad news, but Jack was willing to befriend the feeling.

 

Mark was almost finished with his drink before he stopped. Turning toward the passenger’s side, he saw that Jack was on the edge of the seat, staring at him, nails digging into the fabric of the seat. He felt instantly uneasy.

 

“Jack…?” Mark whispered. “What are you doing, buddy?”

 

“Waiting,” Jack said. It didn’t feel like it was his friend’s voice filtering through his body. It didn’t even look like a stance that Jack would have, especially after two bottles of wine.

 

Mark dropped the mug from his lips as he was about to take the final sip. Everything in him was telling him to give Jack a taste, but he knew it was the wrong thing to do. Not while his parents were home. Not while he was drunk. It wasn’t right.

 

But he felt someone _telling_ him it was right. That it was all going to be okay.

 

His right hand involuntarily handed the mug to his impatient friend. Jack took the mug in both hands, looked inside it, looked back at Mark, and peered into the cup again. He inhaled deeply, moaning almost animalistic in nature. He whipped his head back over to Mark before grinning, and lifting the cup to his mouth, tilting to pour the contents down his throat.

 

For the rest of the ride home, Mark didn’t notice anything different about his friend, other than the sporadic change in behavior from a moment ago. Jack even entered the house naturally—he knew which key opened the door and he knew the direction of his bedroom. He even told his friend goodnight. Mark decided his best option was to crash on the couch in case anything went south tonight.

 

Jack got to his room, closing the door and turning toward the bed. He stripped down to nothing at all—something he never liked to do—and jumped into bed. He felt warm, and alive. He felt like he could take on the world. His drunkenness was only a minor factor in his newfound situation. His hand ran along his bare chest, his perky nipples, down his stomach and toward his lower abdomen. He grinned, and felt a peculiar presence within him and around him.

 

 _You deserve to feel good_ , the voice told him. _Go on._

 

The Irishman listened to the voice and began to pleasure himself.

 

Jack, the person inside this body, felt that all of this was out of character. Why didn’t the blood make him sick again? Make him pass out, even? Why did he _crave_ it? Why would he ever ask Mark if he could have a taste when he knew what it did to him the last time?

 

And now, all he wanted to do was feel good. Whatever was inside him told him that it was okay, and he was going to listen to him.

 

Jack glanced to his right as he was in the middle of his ecstasy and saw the figure—the black, empty eyes of the foreigner. The person who took his body and was inside his mind. Who had him scared shitless for weeks. This doppelgänger was lying on his side next to Jack, grinning over at the slightly drunken, very confused Irishman.

 

“ _Shh_ ,” the imposter whispered. “Don’t say anything. Just…keep going.”

 

The doppelgänger's cold hand clutched around Jack’s throat as he climaxed.


	8. Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everything is greater than the sum of all its parts  
> When I think of you I can't tell anything apart  
> Wake up in the morning to  
> A bird for me, a bird for you  
> A bird for you, and I'll take two..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! If you haven't checked out the Prologue by this point, **I have updated it** so you definitely should. I am so sorry it took so long. I am in the process of moving soon! Super excited. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy!

**2013**

 

He rolled up the sleeves of his overshirt, slowly, each finger maneuvering so precisely. A piece of lint had settled on his dark skinny jeans, so he plucked it away and tossed it into the ether. Jack checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror after wiping away some steam from the shower, making sure nothing was in his teeth, his face was clear, his beard was trimmed, his hair was neat. He double-knotted his sneakers. He checked the mirror again.

 

It was nearly dinnertime, it had to be. He had been in the bathroom for far too long. Jack moved away from the mirror after staring into it one last time, just to be sure. He went to the bedside table and picked up his phone.

 

“Only _five_?” he questioned out loud, aghast. He wasn’t meeting Amber until six, and it was just a few blocks away at a really nice Korean restaurant. He sighed, knowing he’d have to kill more time.

 

He overheard a car pulling up outside, parking on the curb. Mark hopped out of the vehicle and looked directly up at Jack, who was now peering out to see who had arrived. The vampire smirked, shielding his eyes from the evening sun, a small gleam in his squinted gaze. He gave the Irishman a stunted, single wave, and Jack raced downstairs to open up the door for him.

 

“You know I gotta leave in like…” Jack glanced at his wrist, where there was no watch. “…Half an hour.”

 

“Relax,” Mark said, closing the door and turning the lock, a habit he had formed very recently with the strange stuff that Jack had been dealing with. “I’m here to help. I figured you’d be a mess.” The undead looked over his friend’s stature—Jack’s skin was white as snow, and he looked as if maybe _he_ were the vampire instead of Mark. His eyes were dark shadows, a piece of brown hair was pointing toward the heavens, and he had a certain slackness in his posture that was uncharacteristic of him.

 

Mark put his hands on Jack’s shoulders, steadying him. “Is everything alright?” he asked, a wave of concern sweeping him.

 

Jack wanted to tell him about it all. The vivid hallucinations he’d been having again, regarding the Other One. That was what Jack had come to know him as, since he had only had a few encounters and the figure would barely speak to him before disappearing again. He wanted to describe what happened that night at Christmastime…but here it was, two days away from Valentine’s Day, and Jack had tried to convince himself it was all a nightmare.

 

“Yeah,” the Irishman lied. “I’ve not been sleeping well.”

 

“You’re the absolute worst liar I’ve ever met in my life.” Mark’s voice was playful, but firm. Jack knew he wasn’t going to be able to keep getting away with this.

 

“Well, if my date goes well tonight, I promise we can talk all about it,” Jack said with a warm smile. “But that’s the deal.”

 

“What defines a date going ‘well’?” Mark questioned, a sparkle in his eye.

 

“Ugh,” Jack groaned, pushing his friend away and walking toward the stairs. “Not _that_.”

 

“So…you _don’t_ wanna sleep with her?”

 

“Oh my _God_ , you’re her _boss!_ ” The Irishman was halfway up the stairs when he turned back to face his accomplice. “That’s so inappropriate.”

 

The Korean-German rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he offered insincerely. “I’m just excited for you. Seems like things are going really well.”

 

“They have been,” Jack replied. “This is our fourth date. She had to cancel last week for the dentist, but I’m making up for it with the Valentine’s Day thing.”

 

“Where are her flowers?” Mark asked, eyeing Jack. “Or the chocolate? Or like, jewelry or whatever? The heart of her sworn enemy? What do women like?”

 

“I didn’t…” Jack dropped his face into his hands, massaging his closed eyes with the palms of his hands. “I didn’t do that.” He sighed, looking back up at Mark, nearly defeated. “She doesn’t like that kind o’ stuff. She’s not that kind o’ girl.”

 

Mark shrugged. “If you say so. Is there anything here I can help with? Need me to…pick up around the house?” He kicked absentmindedly at a blanket in a heap on the floor and glanced at the cluttered coffee table.

 

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Jack said, his mind elsewhere again. He began backing up the stairs again slowly toward his bedroom. Once he had reached the top of the stairs he called back down to Mark. “I can repay you for the nannying, if you choose to do it. I appreciate it.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” Mark called, grimacing at a three-day-old empty ice cream container. “Really.”

 

Jack found himself clicking away on his computer, checking his never-growing YouTube channel. He thought back to college, how everything was so easy and he felt so creative. Perhaps once or even twice a week, he had the time to upload a video, but now…between work, juggling his friendships, his new…relationship?...and these nightmares, it seemed that no work ever went into it anymore. He wasn’t ashamed—he had tried something, and there was a good chance it wasn’t going to work out. That was okay with Jack.

 

In his subscription box, he found a video from one of his favorite YouTubers, PewDiePie. He was doing another of his shout-out challenge videos, calling for YouTubers to post their channels to his forum and there would be a chance to win the shout-out if PewDiePie liked their content. Jack clicked the appropriate link and found the forum, scrolling through the first couple of pages. Jack had gained a small cult-following on YouTube, so he thought it might be possible for PewDiePie to notice him…

 

The alarm on his phone erupted in the quiet room, signaling that it was time for him to leave and meet his date at the restaurant. He glanced one last time at the page, refreshing it, and seeing hundreds or thousands of new links to aspiring YouTube gamers’ channels.

 

“Yeah,” Jack scoffed, closing the browser window. “Never had a chance.”

 

He powered down his computer and switched off the light before heading downstairs and out the door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jack pulled into the parking lot of Dan Sung Sa, squeezing easily into a tiny spot with his Honda Civic. He had grown accustomed to parking in crowded areas, especially considering his hometown and the tiny cabin in the Irish woods. He hopped out, grabbed a dress coat from the backseat, and clicked the keypad to lock up. The blue Civic blipped cheerfully to let Jack know that his vehicle was safely secure.

 

Amber was standing on the front porch of the restaurant, facing away from Jack, her arms crossed and a thin black shawl covering her shoulders. Her red hair was fashioned in a pinned-back style, curls flowing like a waterfall down her slender back. The ruby red strapless dress she wore flowed outward in a Lolita style skirt, blooming out around her knees, and hovering over a pair of silver stilettos. As she turned her head, it felt like time slowed—her lips matched her dress as the corners crept into a shy smile once she noticed Jack.

 

He didn’t realize he had stopped dead in his tracks when her smoldering eyes caught him creeping up to her. She cackled lightheartedly, moving toward him with her arms out for an embrace.

 

He hugged her close, smelling the sweet scent of her perfume and shampoo and skin.

 

“Hi, there,” she cooed, leaning back from him. “I think I overdressed.”

 

“I think I _underdressed_ ,” the Irishman said, still stunned as he lifted her arm above her head to twirl her around. “Holy shit, girl, why didn’t you tell me we were dressin’ up? You look incredible.”

 

“I wanted to surprise you,” she told him, her brilliant smile contrasting her bright red lips. “I’m sorry. I really should’ve said something. I’m the worst date.” She sighed, her demeanor falling slightly as she retreated a step back, her heel clicking on the pavement. “This is why I don’t do it that often. Nobody can deal with me.”

 

“Oh, no, _no_ ,” Jack reassured, stepping toward her. “Please don’t be upset. Please. You look beautiful. I look like I always look. Nothing’s changed.”

 

Amber exhaled sharply, shaking her head playfully at him. “Let’s go eat. You got reservations, right?”

 

“Er…yeah!” Jack was whisked away as she dragged him into the restaurant, hoping the wait wouldn’t be terribly long. He always forgot the important things.

 

After a few glasses of wine and a delightful array of Korean bar food, Jack and Amber could barely control their giggles and he wasn’t sure which of them had more pink on their cheeks. They exchanged stories of their childhood, relationships that ended badly, teenage hormones, college professors they at one point wanted to hook up with.

 

“So you’ve got a lil’ Irish in you, eh?” Jack assumed later, her freckles becoming more obvious as she wiped away tears from laughter and makeup simultaneously.

 

“Not yet, I don’t,” she replied, and gave a sultry wink. Her response was so sudden and without a beat that Jack nearly choked on the breath he sucked in. His eyes grew enormous and he couldn’t help but go slack-jawed. Amber’s only response was to laugh harder, dabbing at more tears with her napkin. “I’m _kidding_ , you prude. Oh my God, your face was priceless, though.”

 

The dark-haired Irishman couldn’t help but smile. “I knew you were kidding, duh,” he lied as he took a sip of his fifth glass of wine.

 

“But no, really, I am Irish on my mom’s side,” she admitted. “I was born in Kansas. We moved out here when I was a teenager. I love the city, but I think I’ll always be a country girl at heart.”

 

“Same,” Jack joked. She rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder, rather forcefully, he noticed.

 

“So,” she began, seeming to struggle for the words. “I kinda didn’t want to bring this up, but…”

 

 _Oh God_ , Jack thought. A million voices cried out in his mind, all telling him to shut down. Whatever it was she was going to ask him…shut it down.

 

“That night. At the hospital. You were drunk. Mark was there running a sample really late.”

 

_Oh….God…._

 

“Why were you _really_ there? Why did he take that blood from the cooler?”

 

He gulped, gripping the tablecloth tightly in a balled-up fist under the table.

 

“And…why did you make me take your blood that day?”

 

Jack was sweating bullets by this point, and he was sure she could feel the nervous energy emitting from him.

 

She sat, waiting for an answer, one hand flat on the table and the other gripping the stem of her glass. Her eyes searched deep into his soul for any truth that could be there.

 

After what felt like eternity, Jack released his nervousness in a long, deep exhale.

 

“Mark’s mother is anemic,” he said, sincere as he could ever be, his voice low in volume and in octave. “She is an immigrant to the country, like myself. Her health care plan doesn’t cover a lot of her medical needs here in the States like they do in her home country. She constantly needs transfusions, which Mark can provide for her at her home, since he has the equipment there. Instead of making her pay out of pocket for the services, he just…takes extra blood from patients that have her type. I’m lucky enough that I also have her type, and one day Mark had forgotten to get an extra blood bag from a patient. He reimbursed me, of course, with money. And yes, what we’re doing is _extremely_ illegal, so please…” His eyes bored into her. “Please. Don’t tell anyone at all. And _especially_ never bring it up to Mark…it hurts enough to see his mother in the shape she’s in. It’d be like turnin’ the knife that’s already stuck in his gut.”

 

Amber seemed shocked. Her mouth hung open in surprise and her eyes were glossy with tears. “Oh, my God…I had no idea.” Her voice was a hushed whisper. 

 

“Yeah,” Jack choked, feigning grief. He was quite impressed with himself, taking another big gulp of wine to wash down the guilt of lying to Amber. It was for her own good, he realized. How could he ever explain that Dr. Fischbach, her boss, his best friend Mark, was a vampire?

 

“That’s so horrible,” she continued, eyes staring at nothing. “It reminds me of my dad. He had tons of health problems, too. We couldn’t afford most of his surgeries. Collections called a lot. It was a mess. We watched him suffer, and then eventually die. There was nothing we could do.”

 

“God,” Jack said, shaking his head and reaching toward her hand, still laying flat on the table top. His fingertips brushed her pale skin, daring to grasp her hand in his, but not quite brave enough just yet. “I’m so sorry, Amber. I had no idea.”

 

She shrugged, pulling her hand away from his touch and gulping down more wine. “You and I weren’t _that_ close in college. We were too busy. We had different schedules with clinicals and classes all the time. This happened when I was still in high school.” Her blue eyes were glossy with tears that wanted to slink down her cheeks, but she held them back. “So I would’ve never told you about this. I’ve grown a lot since then. I’m a stronger person now.”

 

Jack couldn’t help but grin as she reached back across the table to take his hand. He laced his fingers with hers, as she stared into his eyes.

 

“Thanks for telling me about Mark’s mom,” she said sincerely. “That makes a lot more sense now. I just figured you guys were…selling it on the black market or something. Using it in sacrifices. I had no idea, y’know?” She chuckled, the red wine staining the inside of her lips.

 

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” Jack said, hoping to get off of the subject soon. He pulled his hand back from hers, massaging his bad wrist with the other hand. He was thankful to have the itchy brace off for once. “Are you havin’ a good time tonight? I know it’s not…the most _romantic_ setting, with the bar atmosphere an’ all.”

 

“Hush, I love this place,” she reassured him. “I used to come here a lot back during undergrad. My friends and I would hang out at the bar all night. Hopefully the bartenders don’t remember me. I was trouble back then.”

 

Jack had to chuckle at that. “Oh, you were _trouble_ , then? I can’t see that for some reason.”

 

“Well, it was true,” she said. “We hung out like, what…a handful of times? You never saw my crazy come out.”

 

“Maybe you can show me sometime,” he said, a sparkle of mischief in his eye. The redhead rolled her eyes and scoffed, but grinned all the same.

 

“Don’t push your luck,” she said.

 

After Jack had sobered up somewhat, the two paid for their meals—separately, while Jack covered the drinks—and headed toward the parking lot.

 

“Hey, so,” Amber began, stumbling a bit on a deep crack in the pavement. “I’m not sure I can drive right now? So, is it cool if—“

 

The Irishman held up a hand to stop her mid-sentence. “Jump in, I cleaned out my car last week.”

 

“Only if I get to ride shotgun.” Her heels clicked excitedly on the ground as she sped up toward Jack’s car.

 

“Where else would you ride? The trunk?”

 

“Shut up!” she giggled playfully.

 

Once they were inside, Jack turned the key over and played with the air settings, hoping it would warm up quickly. It was a cold night for Los Angeles, he thought. His stereo was playing low—some muffled modern pop garbage he couldn’t quite make out, nor did he care to do so. Amber shuddered from a cold chill and wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

 

“Oh, shit, here,” Jack said, noticing out of the corner of his eye. He reached in the backseat and fumbled around for something warm, pulling out his favorite forest green wool sweater his parents got him for Christmas. _So that’s where it had gotten off to…_

 

She accepted the sweater, feeling the soft material in her hands, and pulled it on carefully. Jack glanced over, noticing the awkwardness of a heavy wool sweater over a fluffy red dress. He shook his head, smiling as he backed out of the parking space and pulled out onto the street.

 

“Do you remember where I live?” she asked him after a moment. A different song had begun to play, still one that Jack didn’t know, but Amber hummed along to quietly.

 

“Yeah, it’s…it’s across town, right?” He slowed down to stop at a traffic light, wildly glancing back and forth across the street before accelerating. It never hurt to be too careful in the city.

 

“Yeah, about fifteen minutes or so,” she told him, rolling down her window to stick her hand outside and undulate it through the night air.

 

“Thought you were cold just a minute ago?” Jack said, glancing sideways at her suspiciously.

 

“I was, now I’m _hot_!” She started to pull off the sweater, not-so-gracefully, and struggled around inside it.

 

“Jeez, girl,” the Irishman said, “how much did you have to drink?”

 

“Too much,” her voice replied, muffled beneath the dark green wool. “I’m stuck in this sweater, man.”

 

“Aw…aw, no…” Jack responded sarcastically. “Well, we gotta get you out o’ there soon then. You’ll suffocate.”

 

“I’ll _die_?!” she cried out, flailing the arms of the sweater around inside the car. “Not now, not today!”

 

“Chill, chill, it was a joke,” he whispered. “Just try to get it off or I’ll pull over and have to force it off you.” He sat for a moment in silence, pondering his last words. “That came out really predatory. My bad.”

 

She giggled inside the sweater. “S’okay. It was funny.”

 

After a moment or two, she found her way out of the sweater by opting to put it back on. Amber sighed, leaning her head against the window that she had decided to roll back up. She fidgeted with her dress, her hair, and her bracelet before finally settling on touching the radio dial. She turned up the volume and scrolled through the stations. Rap, oldies, 80’s hair metal, classical music, another pop station that was playing a song Jack actually knew.

 

“Ooh!” Amber squealed, turning the volume up even higher. Jack’s shoulders tensed up at the sudden loud intrusion. “I _love_ this!”

 

“Oh yeah,” Jack said, “this is ‘Hollaback Girl,’ right? It’s been a minute since I’ve heard this one.”

 

Amber sang along to every word, flailing wildly and slinging her hair around in the passenger’s seat. Jack even managed to get into the music, dancing and singing along with her.

 

“This is the song that was playing when I first met you,” he yelled over the music. “Remember?”

 

The song ended, and Amber turned the volume back down at a reasonable level. “Yeah,” she said, breathless from her dancing. “When you came to the football game that time. This was the first cheer routine I learned in college.”

 

“And I had my lil’ camera,” he reminded her. “I told my parents I’d document everything, and I came to the game, which was boring, so I walked around a little and found the cheerleaders, and I took a video of it.”

 

“You did?!” she shouted, surprised. “Oh yeah! I remember that.”

 

“Yep, sent it to my parents in a compilation video of my first semester. They loved it.”

 

“Aw, so your parents already know me,” she said, smirking. Her face suddenly fell again. “I miss those days, when it was easy.” She fidgeted again, clicking her shoes together. “I wish the song would come back on.”

 

Jack got an idea, making a last-minute decision to take a dead-end road that he knew overlooked the city lights. Amber squinted, trying to figure out where they were going.

 

“My house isn’t this way…” she said quietly.

 

“I know,” the dark-haired man replied. “Do you still remember the routine to the song?”

 

“Wha—why?” Amber’s brain was working as fast as it feasibly could in her hazy state.

 

Jack pulled off the road at the dead end, opening the door and jumping out.

 

“Come on,” he said, gesturing for her to get out.

 

Cautiously, she opened the door, stepping one foot out at a time, and looking over both shoulders, hugging herself from the cold.

 

“You didn’t bring me out here to kill me, right?” she half-joked.

 

He motioned for her to move in front of the headlights that he left on, and she gingerly stepped in front of them, facing away to look over the city.

 

“I’m not gonna kill you, dummy,” he groaned. “Do you remember the routine or not?”

 

She turned back to face him, still in awe of the beauty of the lights. “Yeah…yeah, of course. It was my favorite dance.”

 

He was fiddling around in his car, looking for something.

 

“Do you have that song on your iPod?” she asked incredulously.

 

He sneered. “No, of course not. It’s on my phone!”

 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, but expected nothing less of this strange boy.

 

Jack plugged his phone into the aux cable and turned the volume up. “Hollaback Girl” started up again, and Amber could already feel the energy of her cheerleader days, mixed with the energy from alcohol, pulsing through her. She started off slow and clunky, somewhat embarrassed about Jack watching.

 

“Come on, don’t be shy!” he called to her. “I’ll do it with you! You can teach me.”

 

She laughed as he came over to her, attempting to mimic her fluid movement.

 

“You gotta put your hips into it, dork,” she said, playfully pushing him. Immediately, he began gyrating as if he were on a stripper pole, blatantly ignoring her dancing to do his own thing. She couldn’t help but lose herself in laughter as she stared at him. Finally the song ended, and Jack was still dancing to his own groove.

 

“The song’s over,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders to break his trance.

 

He panted heavily, putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “Okay…sorry, I got a… little carried away.”

 

They made their way back to the car, feeling the chill of the air again after the adrenaline of dancing had worn off. Jack carefully backed up and started driving again down the short road toward the highway.

 

“Honestly,” Amber began, swallowing dryness out of her mouth, “I thought we were going up there to fuck.”

 

Jack managed to choke on his own saliva after sucking in a sharp breath. Amber let him cough it all out, awaiting his response.

 

“No!” he cried. “No, oh, my God. Come on. I’m a lot more classy than that. If we were gonna do that, I’d _at least…_ take you to a shitty hotel somewhere.”

 

She chuckled at his joke, and he laughed along nervously with her. “Yeah,” she breathed. “I knew, deep down. You are a pretty classy guy, Seán.” The stars weren’t visible under the city lights, but Amber tried to look out at them anyway. Jack wasn’t sure if he should reach for her hand or not. The rest of the five minute ride went by in silence, and he pulled up to the curb beside her apartment complex. There was a parking garage nearby, but he didn’t figure that was necessary.

 

She hopped out, leaning down again to look inside the car. “Thanks so much for tonight. I had a great time, really. Even though I was a little rusty on my cheerleading moves.”

 

Jack laughed, waving his hand. “Nah, don’t worry about that. It was fun. Sorry if…I made you worry I was going to actually…you know.”

 

“Listen,” she shushed him, holding up her hand and stumbling slightly on the sidewalk. “I wouldn’t have said no, if it’s any consolation.”

 

In Jack’s mind, he knew it was an _enormous_ consolation, and he had to fight imagining the scenario as hard as he could. Instead, he grinned mischievously at her. “We’ll see.” It was the only words he had for her at the time.

 

She smiled one last time before almost shutting the door.

 

“Oh!” she cried as she grabbed the door, stopping it from closing all the way. “I’m still wearing the sweater!”

 

Jack pursed his lips. “Keep it. I’ll see you again! You can get it back to me another time.”

 

“Okay, well, you know how this is gonna work…” she said, holding up her finger. “The sweater is mine forever now.”

 

He laughed. “Not on your life, kid. Now go inside. It’s cold. Call me if you need a ride to your car tomorrow.”

 

“I think Stella can take me on her way to work,” she told him. “She’s done it plenty of times.”

 

Jack nodded at her and said goodnight, giving a slight wave. Amber flashed one last brilliant, drunken smile, waved with just her fingertips, and slammed the door shut. He watched her stumble into the main doors of the complex, then pulled away from the curb slowly, taking the longest route back home.

 

As he turned the key to his door and stepped inside, he saw a spotless living room, his tart warmer burning a cinnamon scent on the coffee table. He had forgotten he had owned a tart warmer in the first place. Mark was nowhere to be found, but he figured it was characteristic of his friend to make himself nonexistent, especially if Jack actually did bring Amber home. He’d have to let him know tomorrow that, instead, Jack had decided to be a gentleman…mostly.

 

He made his way to the bedroom, stripping down to his boxers and his undershirt and tossing the old clothes into a pile in the corner. His computer sat over in the corner, collecting dust like the rest of his dreams. Jack sighed deeply, having a seat on the edge of his mattress, taking off one sock and then the other begrudgingly. He wondered what could have come of posting a link to his channel on PewDiePie’s forum. YouTube fame? Tons of followers? It was hard to tell at this point, but he was sure there was no end-game in posting it now.

 

He felt the cold, familiar, slender fingers sliding around his throat from behind while the other hand rested on his shoulder.  

 

“Shhh,” the Other One coaxed, massaging his shoulder with one hand. “There is no point to any of this.”

 

“Who are you?” Jack choked, his voice breaking and tears forming in his eyes. “Please. Why are you doing this to me?”

 

As he turned to face the creature, he had disappeared again. Jack should have known; it’s how it always was. He sighed heavily, face-planting into his pillow and clicking off his bedside light. Instead of the warmth that he wanted to feel beside of him in his bed, the chill of the Other One’s body made him shiver as he closed his eyes, a single tear rolling down his cheek.  


	9. The Empty Brown Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "With no word from the former,  
> I'd be happy as hell, if you stayed for tea.  
> (I know so well that this is all there is)  
> This is how we grow now, woman.  
> A child ignored.  
> These will just be places to me now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAI GUYZ I am so sorry yet again, blah blah I know, worst writer evar amirite lololol
> 
> no but seriously, I'm all moved and settling in to my new city!!! I took a big leap recently and moved 10 HOURS AWAY from home to the midwest U.S. and I am so excited for new opportunities. I am still here writing this fic! No worries pals :) Hope you enjoy!
> 
> *also HUGE trigger warnings to anyone not okay with gore/killing of any kind thx*

A warm breeze tousled his hair as Mark made his way into work this evening, for the third day of his new night shift. The tenderness of spring was on in full-force. Even the night air was alive with the sound of birds, insects, bumblebees, children playing before their bedtime. He adjusted the shoulder strap of his leather laptop carrier, quickening his pace a bit, but not too much—his inhuman speed may alarm anyone caring to take a sunset stroll.

 

He assumed he would be meeting up with Jack once he arrived tonight to discuss the plan: the anniversary of Mark’s rebirth as a vampire was approaching, and he wanted Jack involved in the celebration somehow. He had already discussed it with his family—his father was mildly reluctant, but agreed nonetheless. He had his mother to thank for that, who finally convinced Lucien that it wouldn’t be the worst of ideas to invite the up-and-coming vampire. Ingram only grinned. Gianna was ecstatic.

 

Mark’s family lived in a remote area of the United States—a small farm house in southern Indiana. Most would assume such a place to be uncharacteristic of creatures of the night, but the family enjoyed the mediocrity of the corn fields and the summer thunderstorms. Mark had lived there with them for almost half a century before moving to California to pursue his protégée, and there was never any suspicion about the family that never aged—in fact, the nearest neighbor was not to be found any closer than a two mile radius. The thing about living on a hundred-acre farm in Indiana was that nothing ever really seemed to change, even though the world had gone through chaos and despair. The vampires had seen the world change by venturing out often, but home was on the farm. They preferred it that way.

 

The main doors of the hospital swung open with a creak that needed to be taken care of years prior to Mark’s arrival, the old tile fading and streaked from the traffic of stretchers into the emergency room. He made his way down the solemn hallway, finding the elevator and pressing for the fourth floor. His reflection stared back at him once inside the elevator, perhaps the most updated equipment the hospital currently had. It worried him to think about it.

 

The vampire rounded the corner and headed for his office. Jack was sitting on the ground outside, too absorbed in his phone to notice Mark, looking like he was about to fall asleep. Switching to second shift wasn’t Jack’s ideal cup of tea, but once human resources found out about his and Amber’s new relationship status, it was necessary to separate them as best they could. Mark made an effort to allow his footfalls to create noise, something he never liked to do, as it was against his nature to be heard stalking around. His Irish friend glanced up then, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. He grinned, standing up and brushing himself off, an audible _pop_ from his knees not going unnoticed by the one with inhuman hearing.

 

“Hey, sorry, I’m late,” Mark apologized, fumbling with his key to unlock his office door. He opened the door and stepped back, motioning for Jack to enter.

 

“It’s no big deal,” Jack assured him, stepping through the door and having a seat in the chair in front of Mark’s desk. “What did you wanna talk about?” He clicked off his phone screen and stuck the device in the pocket of his scrubs.

 

Mark sat his laptop bag down with a thump, rummaging around the surface of his desk to clear a space so that he could see his calendar. It was huge, plain white, taped down to the top of the desk because Mark hated the aesthetic of wall calendars with colorful flowers or animals or castles for each month. His index finger traced along the columns to find the date two weeks from now—April 29th.

 

“Would you like to come with me to my family’s home to celebrate my rebirth day?” he asked without looking up. Jack stiffened, and Mark could tell even though he hadn’t yet looked up at him.

 

“Erm…” Jack began, clearing his throat. “I thought your family didn’t wanna see me ‘til I was…y’know.”

 

“I talked to them about it,” Mark said, pinpointing the date with his finger while his other hand searched absentmindedly for a pen to circle it. “Father and Ma gave the go-ahead. My siblings seem…delighted, in their own ways.” He grabbed a red pen and circled the date boldly several times.

 

“What day is it? Is it soon?”

 

“The 29th. Two weeks from now.” Mark looked up, meeting Jack’s worried gaze. “You can get the time off, I’ll make sure of it.” He grimaced a bit when he felt the tension in the room. “That is, if you want to go, of course. I won’t make you. But it would be beneficial for you to get along with my family for right now. I don’t…want to move forward with the transformation yet.”

 

Jack was taken aback. “What?” he choked. “What do you mean? I thought you had to do that pretty soon an’ all.”

 

“You and Amber are an item now, so I think it would be unfair to take that away from you so quickly. I can bide my time a little longer. The Ancients aren’t happy, but they never are. So it doesn’t matter.” The vampire crossed his arms and shrugged a little, his mouth forming a line. “So, you coming or not? Do I gotta disappoint my Ma? She’s excited to see you.”

 

The Irishman pondered, clasping his hands and resting his chin on them. “It doesn’t make sense to me that they’re suddenly fine with me being around. Your father even said it wasn’t safe. And Ingram….scares me. To death.”

 

“Ingram is not going to bother you. He just likes to mess around, is all. You’ll get used to him.”

 

“Ingram would rip my throat out at any given chance if you turned your back long enough,” Jack spat, “and you know it.”

 

Mark threw his head back, sighing loudly. “ _Fiiiiiiiine_ , you don’t have to go. I’ll just text Ma…” He slowly made a move toward his phone, painfully aware of Jack’s growing guilt.

 

“N-no…” Jack sighed, closing his eyes and swallowing. “No. I’ll go. It sounds…fun.” He shifted in his seat. “What do you do at a vampire birthday?”

 

Mark grinned widely, putting his phone away again. “Lots of things. It’s a lot like a human birthday, I think. There isn’t any cake, though.”

 

“Okay,” Jack said, his decision now made firm in his mind. “Fair enough. I just gotta come up with something to tell Amber so she doesn’t ask me questions.”

 

“Say you’re going out of town for vacation,” Mark said. “With me. Or not with me. Whatever you fancy.”

 

Jack scoffed. “Yeah, right. She already thought you and I were together at one point. I’ll come up with something else.”

 

The vampire rolled his eyes. He knew how often those rumors were spread around the hospital, especially among the young women. It almost seemed to be a fetish of theirs.

 

The two weeks rolled by more quickly than Jack would have liked, and Amber gave him a quick kiss and loving embrace as he departed to “visit a friend from college” in rural Indiana.

 

“Take lots of pictures!” she said. “The flat plains remind me of Kansas. Let me know how much you love it when you’re back.”

 

“Of course,” Jack cooed, leaning in once more to catch her lips on his. He made his way back to his car after parking it on her curb to say goodbye.

 

Mark was waiting for him at the airport, sitting on a bench with his suitcase pulled up next to him. He stood, brushing off his slacks as he grabbed the suitcase and walked over to Jack.

 

“Let’s go,” he said hastily, “or we’re gonna miss the flight.” The vampire glanced downward at Jack’s neck. “Seriously? A hickey?”

 

Jack instinctually slapped a palm over the very-noticeable bruise. “Erm. I packed a scarf. We will make it work. Sorry…” Mark exhaled sharply, grabbing Jack by the elbow and tugging him into the direction of the terminal.

 

The two were hurried through the metal detectors, and luckily nothing had come up on the x-ray examinations of their luggage. Almost immediately upon leaving the security area, they were able to board their flight. Jack felt a little guilty for spending too long at Amber’s. Jack was lucky enough to get a window seat, and watched as the luggage train wheeled out toward the plane, loading bag after bag into the cargo hold. As the plane geared up for takeoff, Jack leaned back, closing his eyes and putting on his headphones. Heavy metal began to drown out the deafening sound of the plane speeding up and taking off.

 

Upon arriving at the Indianapolis airport, Mark and Jack sped through security once more to swim through a busy crowd, searching for the faces of Amelia and Lucien. Jack kept one hand covering the left side of his neck, but he knew Mark’s parents were going to be smarter than that. Perhaps he could play it off as a one-night stand? But Jack had never been a very good liar.

 

Lucien and Amelia’s smiles were subtle, not showing teeth, as they held a large cardboard sign that screamed “MARK!” in bolded red paint. Below that, in parentheses and smaller block-text read “(and Jack)” with a smiley-face next to it. It looked like a young girl’s handwriting, and Jack suspected Gianna. Mark swept into them with a loving embrace and Amelia dropped the sign on the ground. The Irishman kept his distance, one hand still covering the bruise.

 

“We should get going,” Lucien’s accent was hushed as he glanced around nervously. Being around so many humans could get exhausting—and dangerous. Amelia wrapped a slender arm around the small of Jack’s back, leading them to their stylish black Range Rover. Their bags were loaded into the hatch and the family took off to the small farmhouse.

 

It was another couple of hours before they reached the destination. Jack had never seen such an expanse of cornfields, the empty brown earth stretching out for miles and miles. The house itself, built out of grey, splintered wood, looked more like a portrait than an inhabitance. A rusted tin roof hung over the two-story house, a rickety porch with some sitting chairs bordered the front, and the remains of a white picket fence attempted to secure the yard. A shed about 30 yards away housed an ancient red tractor and what seemed to be a variety of other farming equipment.

 

Jack hopped out, taking his hand off of his neck for the first time in hours. His eyes swallowed up the gorgeous expanse of farm land, the flatness stretching out for miles against a pale grey sky. His trance was broken by Amelia’s tender voice.

 

“Do you like it?” she asked, her posh British accent contrasting the scene before him.

 

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. It’s beautiful.”

 

“It’s picturesque,” she continued, stepping around beside of him to peer out beyond their world. “Never imagined myself living out here like this. It’s simple. Serene. I’ve gotten used to it over the last century.”

 

Jack wasn’t sure if he would ever become content with how nonchalant the vampires spoke of their age and their past, but for now, he was thanking the gods they didn’t want to drink his blood.

 

Now that Jack’s mind was on the topic of blood, he realized it had been a few weeks since Mark had taken any of his life force. Mark never needed much—less than a pint usually, unless he was feeling particularly peckish. Jack had not yet graduated to allowing him to drink directly from the source, but his undead friend had also not inquired about it. Mark repaid him by buying him food or alcohol. The vampire had also started carrying a small personal notebook, leather-bound, that he made notes and sketches in about his spurts of memory. Jack was sure that Mark had packed it safely away in his luggage for this visit as well. He was also sure that this was to be kept a secret from his family, like much else in his present life.

 

Lucien and Mark carried the suitcases inside, the metal storm door creaking open loudly and getting caught by the wind. Amelia and Jack followed. She hugged herself as the wind caught her traditional African sundress.

 

“Looks like a storm’s on the rise,” she said, her brow furrowed. “Hope it doesn’t hail again. Nearly beat the car to death last time.”

 

Jack frowned, looking out at the horizon. The clouds were growing darker and more ominous by the minute. “There won’t be a tornado, right?”

 

Amelia chuckled somewhat darkly. “Haven’t seen one in a while,” she promised. “But there’s a shelter underground, just in case.”

 

They made their way inside. The living room was the first room they entered, a kitchen and dining area off to the right. Jack followed the sound of Mark and Lucien stowing the suitcases away upstairs, and he climbed the stairs cautiously. Amelia hurried into the kitchen to prepare some dinner.

 

Jack found the two vampires setting up a guest bedroom, putting new sheets on the full size bed. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe.

 

“Anything I can do to help?” he piped up. The two stopped working and turned to face him, fluid in motion.

 

Lucien smiled. “No, thank you, Jack. You’re a guest. We couldn’t expect you to work.”

 

“Mark’s a guest too, though,” Jack countered, “right?”

 

Mark scoffed. “I lived here for almost fifty years. It’s still my house.” He raised his eyebrows as he carried a wad of clean white sheets, walking past Jack and out the door. The Irishman followed like a lost puppy.

 

“This is _your_ room!” the Korean-German vampire exclaimed happily. It was bigger and more decorative than the other guest room, porcelain white walls with potted green plants and old-fashioned figurines resting atop the even more old-fashioned furniture. Jack’s blue eyes grew wide as he stepped in carefully, glancing around the room. A king-sized bed with a canopy sat in the center of the room, golden and crème-colored sheets lining it with too many decorative pillows to count.

 

“Wow,” Jack breathed. “What’s the occasion? How come I get the nice guest room?”

 

“Humans require a certain level of…comfort,” Mark began, “that vampires don’t necessarily need. It was my father’s suggestion. We figured you’d be happy here.”

 

“Of course,” Jack blurted. “Thank you.”

 

“You’re very welcome!” Lucien’s voice floated from somewhere downstairs. Jack blushed, realizing how careful he needed to be with his words in the house full of creatures who were listening to his heartbeat at this very moment.

 

Mark and Jack came downstairs at about the same time that Gianna and Ingram came through the front door. Already wary of the presence of Ingram, Jack positioned himself so that Mark was between him and the Feral vampire. Gianna beamed upon seeing the Irish human, nearly leaping into his arms to embrace him.

 

“Yay, you’re here!” she cried, burying her face into his chest. Her long brown curls bounced as she nuzzled closely. Stunned, Jack took a moment to collect himself before wrapping his arms around her slender, small body.

 

“Yeah, I’m here,” he whispered, grinning. He cocked his head, squinting his eyes quizzically at Mark, who smirked and shrugged at him.

 

Ingram groaned, rolling his eyes and moving toward the kitchen, catching Jack’s gaze before disappearing into the adjacent room.

 

The family sat down to dinner—a home-cooked country meal sprawled out in front of Jack, and empty chalices in front of the vampires. Amelia still flitted around the kitchen, getting last minute table placings for Jack and waiting for the blood bags to warm in the microwave.

 

Jack looked at his plate: steamed garden vegetables, lemon-pepper chicken breast, and a homemade yeast roll. Off to the side sat a glass of a fine red table wine. The vampire mother had cooked all of it herself, and was very proud of the finished product. Jack was excited to eat it—he hadn’t had any food all day, save for some airline cookies.

 

He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Mark did not have a chalice in front of him, and that he was seated at the head of the table. This seemed out of character, and Jack was sure he was going to find out what was going on, even if he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

 

Amelia grabbed four blood bags from the microwave after they had been warmed to her liking. The thick plastic they were inside was a higher-grade than that of a hospital. The vampire gave all four bags to Mark, who stood from his position at the table and walked to where his father sat. He opened one bag and poured the contents into the silver chalice encrusted with sapphires. Next, he went to his mother, pouring another bag into a chalice of the same design. Ingram followed Amelia, Mark giving the blood to him in a golden chalice with rubies, and Gianna last with another gold chalice that was lined with yellow topaz stones.

 

Mark returned to his place at the head of the table after discarding the empty bags. He stood at his seat, staring ahead, and lifted his palms as if to ask a church congregation to rise. The family stood, all in one motion. Jack hesitated in his seat before stumbling to his feet.

 

“I give life to my family, as they have given life to me,” Mark announced, his red-and-silver eyes glazed and staring ahead at nothing. “I am thankful for your guidance. I am thankful for the Ancients. They smile upon this family and I feel their presence with us.”

 

“We feel their presence with us,” the family uttered in unison, voices low enough to be a hum. Jack gulped and stiffened where he stood, his heartbeat quickening. Outside, the rain had begun to fall and the wind was picking up, blowing the precipitation almost sideways into the dusty, old kitchen window pane.

 

“A toast,” Mark announced, raising his hand as if there was a chalice in it. The others repeated his motion, raising their chalices filled with blood. “To the rebirth. A toast to the Morelock family. A toast to perpetuating our line with another…eventually.”

 

Mark’s voice had lowered to his gravelly, almost-seductive tone as his eyes drifted to stare directly at Jack. The Irishman fought the urge to look away, as the burning irises pierced into his soul, but held his gaze and his ground. Jack nodded once, his mouth forming a hard line. No sense in denying the inevitable. The Korean’s mouth was slightly agape so that fangs were visible. The corners of his mouth turned upward into a slight smile, his tongue playing with the tip of one of his sharp canines. Mark blinked and turned his head away from Jack, who was grateful that the attention was shifted away from him.

 

“A toast to eternity,” the family echoed together. They all sat down as Mark gave the signal, Jack’s reflexes once again lagging. He plopped down awkwardly in his seat as the vampires began drinking from their chalices. Mark slowly descended to his seat, his vampiric features still prominent as he stared straight ahead, clutching at the ends of the large chair’s armrests.

 

A line of blood trickled down the side of Gianna’s chin as she finished the last slurp in her chalice. Jack couldn’t help but stare as her tongue slipped out to clean up her mess. She caught his gaze and turned her head to stare at him, smiling a red-toothed smile, her fangs countering her innocent appearance.

 

Jack looked down at his plate without so much as a grin in her direction. He felt his stomach churning, and fought the desire to vomit although there was nothing to vomit up. The food suddenly didn’t look as appetizing, but he knew it would hurt Amelia if he didn’t at least try to eat.

 

The family finished their meal and began to chat idly with each other, speaking of the weather, or Gianna and Ingram’s trip out to the town to buy supplies to fix the fencing outside. The human was confused as to how they had just gone from a formal affair, to drinking blood, to _this_. He tried to ignore it as best he could and began to slowly eat his dinner.

 

“Do you like it?” Amelia piped up after a moment. He felt the eyes of the family on him all at once, and swallowed his food before looking up.

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he squeaked. “It’s very good. Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

 

“Nonsense,” she cooed, waving her hand. “I wanted you to feel as comfortable and welcome as possible.” She reached upwards to adjust one of her dark black powderpuff buns that sat atop her head, her colorful wooden bracelets cracking against each other.

 

“So…” Jack began, between bites of chicken, “ _that_ was a vampire birthday celebration?”

 

“Yes,” Lucien said. “Each family member, upon becoming one of us, obtains a ceremonial chalice specifically for this purpose. It seems silly to an outsider, I’m sure. But you will be used to it eventually.” The Latin American vampire grinned softly at Jack.

 

“And, the…the ‘Morelock’ bit? What did you mean by the ‘Morelock’ family?” Jack was suddenly inspired with many questions as he finished off his wine. Amelia hopped up to grab the bottle and fill his glass again for him.    

 

“That’s my vampire name,” Mark said. “Marquinhos Morelock.”

 

Jack snorted, nearly spitting out the wine Amelia had given him. “ _Marquinhos_?” No wonder he went by just “Mark.”

 

“It’s Portuguese…” Mark grumbled, rolling his eyes.

 

“We allowed Mark to shorten his first name and take his original family name in order to blend in more with society,” Lucien explained. “No one wants to hire someone named Marquinhos Morelock.”

 

Jack finished up his dinner and downed another full glass of wine. The vampires took him into the living room, where he was instructed to sit on the couch. Before him on the coffee table was an enormous tome, old enough that if Jack touched it the wrong way it might break apart into dust. Crudely inscribed into the black leather was “ET PROPHETIAE.” Jack had read enough Latin in his day that he could piece together the meaning: “ _The Prophecy_.”

 

He ran a finger along the spine of the massive book, daring to pick it up.

 

“Go ahead,” Mark said soothingly. “You can read through it.”

 

Jack gingerly lifted the heavy book from the table with both hands, placing it carefully in his lap. Before he had a chance to open the book, the family began their rhythmic chanting.

 

“We give life to you,” they said, “on this day of your rebirth.”

 

Everything happened so quickly, it almost felt like a blur.

 

Mark’s fangs were out and deep in his own father’s throat, gulping blood down quickly. Lucien didn’t so much as flinch as his son drained blood from his body. Within seconds, Mark was on Amelia, drinking from the side of her neck opposite to the one he chose for Lucien. She gasped and held her breath, reaching up to claw into Mark’s shoulder blades. He was gentler with her—he licked her wound clean once he finished and moved to Ingram.

 

Ingram smirked at Mark, bearing his own fangs and staring him down with ruby irises. He held out his left wrist for Mark, who snatched it greedily and chomped down. He sucked loudly at his brother’s vein, drinking for longer than he had with his mother and father. Ingram jerked away his wrist, holding his other hand over the wound, and glared at his brother.

 

Mark knelt down to Gianna, who smiled sweetly at him. She offered her right wrist and Mark kissed it, carefully and slowly slicing through with his fangs. She grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut and looking away. He barely drank a drop from her before letting her go and licking the wound clean. She sighed with relief when it was finished.

 

Jack’s eyes were big as saucers and his heart was hammering in his head, his mouth agape at what he had just witnessed.

 

The family burst out laughing.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Mark chuckled, “that happens too.”

 

“God _damn_ these rituals…” Jack whispered mostly to himself.

 

An hour or so later, the storm had passed, and Jack and Mark were outside on the back covered porch, swinging slowly in a rickety old wooden swing built for two that hung from the ceiling above. Jack was thumbing through _The Prophecy_ , vaguely reading the names of vampires past and present and future.

 

He got to the surnames beginning with _M_ and searched for “Morelock.” Running an index finger down the page, squinting to see in the dim back porch light, he found the lineage. Names he’d never heard before branched out in genealogic lines before him. Toward the bottom, the most recently-made vampires, he found Lucien Morelock, sired in 1266 C.E. Branching to his right was Amelia Morelock, sired in 1419 C.E.

 

Jack felt the pit of his stomach contorting again with nervous energy. He couldn’t fathom the age of these creatures…and that he would eventually be amongst their ranks. He shuddered, continuing on.  

 

Ingram was the eldest of the Morelock children, turned in 1573 C.E. Beside Ingram was Gianna in the middle, the youngest, reborn in 1904. Upon further inspection, Jack saw that she _was_ , in fact, only fifteen years old when her life was taken from her. He tried to put it out of his mind.

 

Marquinhos was to the right, branching down by himself. Sired in 1794. Running the numbers quickly in his head, Jack discovered that Mark was 219 years old today. More surprising was a line connecting Mark’s name to another: “Zhara.”

 

The Irishman looked over at the vampire, who was staring out at the night sky from the swing, absentmindedly fiddling with the chain used to hold the swing in place.

 

“Who’s Zhara?” Jack asked meekly.

 

Mark’s other hand reached up to his mouth so he could chew on his index fingernail. “She was my wife.” The Korean-German man stared ahead still, not looking at Jack or at the book.

 

Jack glanced down to see that she was turned in 1916 by Lucien. A death date, scrawled in darker ink than the rest of the page, read the year 1959.

 

“I’m…” Jack wasn’t sure how to finish. “What happened?”

 

“A mistake,” Mark said solemnly. “I thought she was getting better…” He swallowed and Jack saw his eyes glistening with tears that threatened to fall. “She hurt a lot of people. She had a hard time controlling her instinct. I found her after she slaughtered a bunch of kids at an orphanage.” His voice broke at the end of his sentence and he took a moment to collect himself.

 

“It’s okay,” Jack whispered, patting his friend’s shoulder. “You don’t have to—“

 

“ _No_ ,” Mark growled furiously. He tensed up, seeing Jack out of the corner of his eye, who only wanted to help him. “No.” This time, he was more caring and quiet. “It helps to talk about it. I’m glad you’re here.”

 

Jack nodded, allowing Mark another moment.

 

“She was so proud of what she’d done,” he continued after a minute. “She was covered…head to toe. Their blood was everywhere. Some of them were still warm. I was horrified, but strangely…I had never wanted anyone more in my life.” Mark felt ashamed at his admittance. Jack never took his hand off of his shoulder, letting the vampire know he was still with him. “So we…we made love. We fucked. We fucked right on top of these corpses of these dead children.”

 

Jack still never broke his gaze. Mark was so embarrassed he had to look away into the night sky again.

 

“As she climaxed, I…grabbed her head in both my hands. I kissed her. I told her I loved her so much. And I popped her skull open with the force of my hands. Her brains were all over me—“ Mark nearly broke then and there, grasping the chain so tight Jack thought he might snap it in half. “And they felt…she was _warm_. She felt alive. But I knew it was because she had just massacred all of these poor kids.”

 

Jack rubbed along Mark’s shoulder blades slowly, back and forth, patting every once in a while to coax him onward. After some time, Mark’s grip on the chain loosened, and he exhaled slowly.

 

“It’s more difficult in female Ferals to control their hunger,” he explained, sniffling back the urge to cry. “I thought I had taught her something, and that she was learning from me. I _knew_ , then and there…I knew she had to be stopped. We had to move out here after that. We were living up near New York at the time.” He pressed his hands together, forefingers on his lips. “I was a fool to think I could train a Feral, especially with how young I was. But she got away from me on a hunt. I still blame myself.”

 

“You shouldn’t,” Jack said quietly. “You’re a good person, Mark.” He stifled a chuckle. “Sorry. _Marquinhos_.”

 

Mark playfully slapped Jack’s shoulder. “Shut up.” Both grinned at each other, the twinkle of the porchlight shining in their eyes.

 

Jack glanced back down at the page, looking again at the strange name. Marquinhos. Each vampire name had the original human name beside it. Mark’s original name struck Jack as he ran his finger over the ancient ink—Wilford Fischbach.

 

“Wow, Wilford, huh?” Jack scoffed. “You just can’t catch a break with names.”

 

“Well, there’s often a reason we receive new names at rebirth,” the vampire said in an annoyed tone. “Keep it up and I’ll bury you out here in a cornfield.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Jack surrendered. “Sorry.”

 

Jack continued to look closer, this time at the line branching down from Mark. He saw his human name, Seán William McLoughlin, as his eyes finally traveled over to his vampire name.

 

 _Janek Morelock_.

 

“Juh—yuh…yah…Yah-neck?” Jack questioned incredulously. “ _Janek_?!”

 

Mark held his hand over his mouth, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a hidden smile.

 

“It _literally_ sounds like my name is ‘ya neck.’ _Mark_. No. _NO._ ”

 

“I don’t make the rules,” Mark said, holding up his hands. “Gotta talk to the Ancients about that one.”

 

“Okay, but—“ Jack’s face burned bright red. “Can’t I just go by ‘Jack’? I like that one.”

 

The vampire rested his forefinger on his chin, thinking. “Y’know…I actually think Janek may be the Czech version of Jack. I’d have to look into that, though. About calling you Jack, that is. I don’t really care as much about the origin of the name.”

 

Jack groaned, throwing his head backward and rubbing his hands into his eyes. When he decided he was brave enough to look back at the book, he saw the “siring” year inscribed in parentheses next to the abomination of a name. 2012.

 

“Oh, boy…” the Irishman breathed. “2012. So...” He trailed off, not wanting to ask the question that Mark already knew he was going to ask.

 

“It was supposed to happen last year,” Mark told him, frowning. “We went over that.”

 

“Are we in big trouble?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

They sat in silence for a while as Jack slowly, gingerly closed the ancient script, patting the leather binding softly.

 

Amelia came out onto the porch, holding a candlestick with a flickering flame at the end of a slender black candle.  

 

“Boys?” she said. “Can I get you anything? A shot of whiskey, Jack?”

 

 “Sure,” Jack said, smiling. “Actually, could you make that a double?”

 

Amelia grinned knowingly. “Indeed. Also, I noticed the, erm…infliction, on your neck. Mark, you _do_ realize you have to use your fangs, love?”

 

Mark burst out laughing and Jack once again blushed, his pale demeanor changing to hot pink in an instant.

 

“That’s from his lover, Ma,” Mark told her. “And no, I am not synonymous with that term.”

 

“A lover?” Amelia’s eyes sparkled. “Someone you know well?”

 

Jack shrugged. “We went to college together. And we work together. She’s sweet.”

 

A hint of worry crossed her face that was too well-hidden for Jack’s human eyes to pick up, but Mark could sense it in her body language.

 

“Someone you’re…quite attached to?” she questioned, her smile faltering slightly.

 

“N—no,” Jack hesitated, “not…necessarily.” He realized why this was an important question. “She’s just…a thing for now. No big deal.”

 

Amelia sensed that his tongue betrayed his heart, but wasn’t going to push the envelope further. She smiled, nodded once, and retreated back inside to fetch Jack’s whiskey.

 

Mark took _The Prophecy_ from Jack, bent his knees to rest his feet on the swing with the rest of his body, and propped the book in his lap, opening it to a random page. From his pocket, he took out his pocket-sized sketchbook—the one in which he drew out his memories and made notes so that he could try and piece together his past. He rested the sketchbook carefully in the nook he had created out of the larger book, hiding it carefully from wandering eyes. Jack glanced over at the page Mark was on: a crudely-drawn rendition of what appeared to be Mark’s significant other in his human life. The vampire stroked the soft lines on the page, deep in his own thoughts as he smiled and tried to remember exactly what she looked like.

 

“We are getting a lot out of our experiment,” he told Jack. “It’s almost time to drink from you again.”

 

Jack nodded sullenly. “Yeah, seems that way.”

 

A cackle in the back of his mind reminded him why he was always so afraid of it all.


	10. Equinox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If I smile and don't believe,  
> Soon I know I'll wake from this dream.  
> Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken.  
> Hello, I'm the lie, living for you so you can hide...  
> Don't cry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we get some hella answers as well as more questions raised b/c I'm a great storyteller (/sarcasm). Anyways, enjoy! 
> 
> **NSFW WARNING** sexual encounters af y'all

Her soft, supple breasts were cupped in his hands as he thrust into her from below.

 

“Oh… _nnf_ …God, Seán!” she cried, sweat trickling off her brow. Amber tilted her head back in bliss, grabbing Jack’s hands as he squeezed at her breasts gently. His rhythm was moderate, pumping easily but not too hard. He was trying not to climax, but he wondered if she was close. He always wondered if he was doing it very right or if she was trying to make him feel better.

 

“Does it feel nice?” he asked her meekly, biting his lip to keep from losing it.

 

“ _Yes,_ ” she growled. “Fuck, don’t stop…”

 

He took this as an opportunity to increase the speed and the force. She bounced lightly, her wild red hair a tangled mess as her mouth opened in surprise. A sly smile cracked across her face as she tried to catch her breath.

 

“You want on top?” she questioned seductively. Without a word, Jack grabbed her by her shoulders and rolled her over in one smooth movement, throwing her knees over his shoulders and thrusting in deep. Her moans and screams in reply told him all he needed to know.

 

“Mmm, fuck yeah,” he breathed into her neck, kissing gently and suckling at the pale, tender skin. He closed his eyes tight as he continued slathering her in affection. “God, you’re amazing…”

 

“Am I?” a foreign, melodic voice chirped in his ear. “How exciting.”

 

Jack opened his eyes to look down at the Other One, his eyes glazed over black, naked, sprawled beneath him.

 

The Irishman yelped, jumping backward away from his doppelgänger. He tumbled onto his lower back, sitting himself up with his hands as he stared in disbelief.

 

“N—no…” he whispered, squeezing his temples and trying to wish him away. “This can’t be happening right now…”

 

The Other One’s smile grew impossibly wide, his spider-like fingers spanning out by his sides to prop him up so he could stare at Jack.

 

“Oh,” the monster _tsked_. “What? You don’t like the thought of fucking yourself?”

 

The Other One’s voice rose and fell throughout a strange variety of octaves, almost as if he were trying to sing, or coax a young child to obey him. It was Jack’s own voice—but an unnaturally high pitch, sickly sweet, and childlike. It didn’t match the body it came from.  

 

“You are disgusting,” Jack finalized gruffly. “I was with her. Not you. Get the fuck out o’ my head.”

 

The demon’s fingers reached out toward Jack as he tried to escape the bed, holding him in place with a telepathic force. The digits splayed out before Jack were each at least six inches in length, sharp and sinister at the ends as the fingers themselves became claw-like. Black veins raced through the porcelain skin beneath the evil-looking hand.

 

“You’re still with her, presently,” the demon promised. “You are. But you’re also with me.”

 

“What’s that even—“ Before Jack could get another word in, his vision flashed quickly: and indeed, he was back with Amber enjoying pure ecstasy. After only a couple of seconds—long enough for Amber to moan sensually—he was back with the Other One in the same bed.

 

Jack gaped at his look-alike, who offered another sinister grin. “How are you doing this?”

 

“Altering your perception of reality,” the monster answered simply, shrugging slightly. “You’re with her and you’re in your head. Nothing complicated about it, really.”

 

“Am I…” Jack trailed off, swallowing dryness out of his throat. “Am I givin’ her…enough attention this way?”

 

“You are still one hundred percent present in her moment,” he said. “Or, she perceives you to be. That’s all that matters, anyway.”

 

The Other One seemed to glitch, and at once he was standing beside the bed, still nude. Jack saw strange, dark markings tattooing the naked body of the doppelgänger— _Jack’s_ naked body—but wasn’t quite sure what the symbols meant. Across his chest, up and down his inner forearms, spiraling down his legs. He didn’t care to ask, and he wasn’t positive he would get an answer that made much sense.

 

This was not the first time that Jack had spiraled in and out of reality with the Other One, and the better part of his summer was spent unsure as to which realm he was in.

 

“Who are you?” Jack asked for the hundredth time. “What are you doing here?”

 

The monster glitched again, his skin distorting into pixels for a brief moment. His neck snapped to one side as he stared at his human counterpart.

 

“Why do you keep asking me that? Don’t you _know_ who I am?” His voice had become menacing, almost mechanical, as the garbled sound of corruption filled in the empty space around the words.  

 

Jack was instantly filled with rage.

 

“ _Why_ would I fuckin’ know who the _fuck_ you are?!” he cried, slamming balled fists into the sheets. “I have asked you _so many_ goddamned times who you are and what in the _hell_ you’re doin’ here. Every time you have ignored me, and just…disappeared. Why are you _doing this to me_?!” Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared helplessly at the being before him. “ _Please_. I’m tired o’ this. I’m just so fucking tired…”

 

A clawed hand creeped beneath Jack’s chin, lifting drooping head to meet black-eyed gaze.

 

“I’m called Shesmu,” he said simply, gleefully, the faintest hint of fangs jutting out of his upper lip. “It’s the old name I was given, before I took a host. Now I’m…not truly any _one_ being. I don’t have a sacred name. I thought I’d take yours. But I don’t care much for Jack. Or Seán. They’re nice, though. Thank you.”

 

Jack scoffed. “Yeah. Whatever.” He sat for a moment, nude, cross-legged on the center of his bed. “So…what do I call you?”

 

The Other One plopped down next to him, purring wickedly. “I dunno…” He stretched, back arched like a cat as his claws reached out to dig into the sheets. “Whatever you like.”

 

“Well, I guess you’re like…my evil twin,” Jack suggested, finger pressed to his chin in thought. “My dark side. The other me. Anti me.”

 

The monster’s black eyes sparkled as if the universe itself spun inside their expanse. “Mmm, I like that one. Anti-You.”

 

“Alright, then,” Jack sighed. “Anti-Me it is.”

 

“Just call me Anti,” he cooed, grinning. Anti reached for Jack, his claws running from the front of his hairline and spidering across his scalp. The demon pushed gently against Jack’s head and within the blink of an eye, Jack reached climax with Amber.

 

The girl tumbled over from her position on all fours, smiling and breathing heavily. A lusty gaze caught Jack’s attention as he blinked quickly, looking all round the room to make sure the two were alone. Before she noticed his haphazard gaze, she laughed, rubbing her eyes.

 

“Wow,” she sighed. “You were…an animal tonight.”

 

“R—really?” Jack said, surprised. _Guess I did give her enough attention, then…_

 

“Yeah,” she whispered, eyes wide. “And the dirty talk!” Amber playfully slapped Jack’s elbow. “Didn’t know you had it in ya, kid.” She winked at him, rolled over, and went to search for the clothes that were strewn about the room.

 

“What…what did I say, exactly?” Jack asked, gulping. “I can’t seem to recall. I was a little…busy.”

 

The redhead threw back her head in a short cackle. “I’m not repeating it,” she said, digging through the pile of clothes to find her underwear and shirt. “I’m blushing just thinking about it.”

 

Jack grinned a crooked grin, somewhere in the back of his mind hearing the contented sigh of his inner self.

 

He then noticed a thin line of bloody saliva dripping down Amber’s collarbone from a deep bite mark in her neck.

 

“Holy shit!” Jack choked, jumping from the bed. “Are you okay?” He ran over to her as she pulled her shirt on, observing the wound more closely.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine— _ow!_ ” As Jack touched the area around the bite, he noticed it was already starting to bruise. She slapped his hand away. “Well, don’t touch it, idiot!” She gently laid her hand over the affected area, bringing the palm away to look at the blood.

 

“I did that…?” he questioned suspiciously. “ _I_ did that?”

 

“Yeah, looks like you did a number on it,” she surmised, scowling as she crossed to the mirror to take a look. “Good thing I have an excellent cover-up.” Amber couldn’t help but smile again at the thought of the orgasm that Jack had given her, though, and decided she would let this one slide for now.

 

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “Let me help you nurse it.”

 

She nodded, leading him out of the room toward the bathroom.

 

“I remember it now, when it happened,” she told him. “You were kinda in your zone, I think. You started lapping away at the blood…”

 

Amber’s voice faded into the background as the sinister chuckle boomed inside his head.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You still never answered my other question,” Jack said, poking at the surface of the lake with a stick, watching the ripples float away. The evening air was getting chilly, and the leaves were starting to fade and die. Autumn was on the way soon.

 

“Which one was that?” Anti lazed on his back in the branch of a tree that stood strong by the lakeside, hovering over the water.

 

“Why are you here? Why does it have to be me?”

 

Anti closed his eyes, grinning. “It doesn’t _have_ to be anyone. It just _was_ you.”

 

Jack rolled his eyes as he tossed the stick into the water, a sharp _splash_ filling the otherwise empty air. “That doesn’t tell me anything!” he growled. “I want real answers.”

 

“Do you remember last year? Thanksgiving? The vampire harvest festival?” Jack’s mind flashed back to images he cared not to think about. He nodded, knowing Anti could feel his affirmation without even so much as looking at him.

 

“You drank the blood,” the demon continued. “It awoke within you…a primal urge.” The unnaturally childlike voice floated down from the branch above the water as Anti turned his head toward Jack on the bank, opening his black eyes slowly. “You kept wanting more afterwards. Or, rather… _I_ wanted more.”

 

Jack scoffed, shaking his head as he looked out over the lake. “I’m supposed to just die and become a vampire,” the Irishman said matter-of-factly, almost choking on the word “vampire.” “I can’t afford to be you, too. There’s only one o’ me.”

 

“Ah, well,” Anti sighed, smiling a fanged smile. The late summer breeze tossed the leaves, creating white noise. “We will make it work.”

 

“No, _we_ won’t,” Jack huffed. “I don’t want you in my head anymore.”

 

“You should have thought of that before you went off and drank human blood, _as a human_ ,” Anti’s voice glitched and cracked, and instantly his body was sitting straight up on his branch, legs swinging out over the water. “I’ve been waiting for a long time.”

 

“There have been _plenty_ of other lunatics out there that have drank human blood,” Jack screamed at the branch. “I’m not the only one. Why not possess one of those?”

 

“Because this is what they wanted.” Anti cut himself off before he could finish his second thought. "I tire of this. I don't have to explain  _anything_ to you.”

 

“You're in my body! You're in my head! How is _any_ of this fair?!”

 

Anti’s eyes grew impossibly darker, every tooth in his mouth grew sharp, and he glitched from the branch to kneel directly in front of Jack, claws curved and ready to fight.

 

“ _Enough_ ,” he hissed. Jack could see the veins in Anti’s temples, black as his eyes, bulging out in rage. “It is of no concern to you. Do you understand? We do this together. We live together. And then _you_ die.” A wicked smile flashed at the Irishman.

 

“You die too,” he whispered, unsure of his own response. Anti shook his head knowingly.

 

“I won’t,” he promised in his putrid, bubbly voice. “I never have to sleep that long again.”

 

Anti disappeared from Jack’s view. The dark-haired human crawled toward the edge of the lake bank, peering into the water, seeing the black eyes in his reflection staring back at him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Mark left the last night of his graveyard shift, not entirely ready to switch over to his fall schedule. He adored the gloominess of the late autumn and winter days, but daytime work was never his forte. He jumped into his car, ready to drive over to meet Jack for his bi-weekly dose of blood, who was likely just waking up to start his day.

 

He found the Irishman curled under a blanket, sitting on the kitchen counter, shivering.

 

“What’s wrong?” Mark asked, glancing around for any sign of danger. “Is it—“

 

Jack nodded, swallowing bile out of his throat. “He told me how much you hated keeping me alive.”

 

“ _Fuck_ him,” Mark cursed, throwing his briefcase onto the kitchen table. “You hear that, asshole?” he called into the open air of the kitchen, throwing up his middle fingers. “ _Ffffffuck you!_ ”

 

“Go fuck _yourself_ , bloodsucker,” Anti yelled distortedly through Jack’s throat. Jack gasped at the sound, covering his mouth with his hand as his eyes grew huge. “Oh, God, Mark, I’m sorry.”

 

“You don’t have to apologize,” the vampire said soothingly. “I’m sorry this is happening. I know it’s tough. But you can work through it. I know you can. There may be some kind of…medication…therapy? Maybe an exorcism?”

 

Anti cackled demonically, this time only in Jack’s head.

 

Or so he thought.

 

Mark looked around the room, glaring at the ceiling, searching for the source of the sound.

 

“You heard it?” Jack whispered, shocked. Mark nodded quickly, just as surprised as Jack was.

 

“Okay,” Mark called eventually, “we can _both_ hear you. Loud and clear. So, why don’t you and I talk, alright? Face to face. Demon to demon.”

 

Jack’s eyes rolled back as he blinked, the black expanse filling in where blue and white used to be. His veins ran black, canines extended, fingers grew into long claws.

 

“That would be swell,” chirped the high-pitched voice, “if we were both demons.”

 

Mark blinked, making sure he was actually seeing this correctly.

 

“So…” he started, struggling for words, “I guess you’re right. Vampires aren’t _technically_ demons.”

 

Anti laughed. “Oh, no, silly,” he said, tossing his clawed hand at Mark’s face. “You are a demon. I am not. And it isn’t appropriate to curse at a god.”

 

“A…god?” Mark questioned.

 

“Shesmu,” Anti offered his clawed hand to the vampire, who reluctantly grasped one single finger. “Lord of ointments, lord of wine, lord of blood. Slaughterer of gods. ‘He who dismembers.’” He flashed another wicked smile at Mark. “I’m a servant of Ra, chosen for his personal guard.” Anti raised his eyebrows. “So, no…not a demon.”

 

“Where is Jack?” Mark asked.

 

Inside his own head, Jack was screaming to be released.

 

“No!” he cried, suddenly standing beside of Mark on the floor. “I’m _right here_! Mark!” He tried to grab his friend, but his arm passed straight through him. As if he were a ghost.

 

“He’s right there,” Anti pointed with his other hand to Mark’s right side. “You can’t see him, but he can see you. And he has a lot to say right now. I think he’s angry that you and I started talking.”

 

Jack screeched, pounding fists into the wall angrily, passing through them the same as he had with Mark. He wanted to cry, and break down, and wither away. He knew Anti would see this as a weakness, so he tried to calm himself down.

 

“I’m letting you come back now,” Anti said, staring at Jack. Without another second passing by, Jack opened his eyes, gasping for air, as if he had been suffocated for a thousand years. He fought the urge to vomit. The whole “altering reality” thing was starting to take a toll on his physical—and mental—health.

 

“I had more to say to him,” Mark growled as he grabbed Jack’s shoulders, steadying him as he caught his breath. “You alright?”

 

“ _Fine_ ,” Jack grunted painfully, holding his gut. “I’ll be fine. You came here for blood?” Changing the subject seemed like a good idea.

 

“Y—yeah, but…” Mark trailed off, ashamed to take blood from his friend in this state. “We’ll do it another time, okay? I can hold out.”

 

Jack threw the blanket to the floor angrily, pulling down his green v-neck t-shirt to expose his neck. “Take it. Please. I need to feel something that isn’t _this_.”

 

The vampire took a step back.

 

“ _Whoa_ , now,” he said, holding up his hands. “I’ve never drank directly from you since…the first time. And now you’re offering me your _neck_? No, Jack, we are doing it the normal way.”

 

“ _Please._ ” The Irishman’s voice cracked as he gritted his teeth, digging fingernails into his stomach as he tried to stifle the pain.

 

“What if I can’t stop?”

 

A single tear leaked out of the corner of his eye. “Then don’t stop.”

 

“Jack—“

 

The human held out a hand to stop his friend.

 

“If it has to be today,” Jack began, “then it will be today. Alright?”

 

Mark shook his head slowly, licking his lips as he felt fangs forming in his mouth. His stomach ached for the taste of Jack’s blood. “It’s not going to be today. I promise you that.” He grabbed the sides of Jack’s face in his hands, focusing on the thumping jugular, leaning in to brush his lips against it. “We have a god to get rid of.”

 

His fangs crushed into the sensitive skin of Jack’s throat. Jack yelped, grabbing onto the back of Mark’s neck, fingers digging into his scalp. The pain was unbearable, like an immunization, burning through Jack’s veins and penetrating every muscle and bone he had. He grinded his teeth so hard he thought they would shatter, squeezing his eyes shut…until the pain began to dull, and was replaced with a different kind of sensation. Not ecstasy, or the feel of a passionate lover…but softness. A feeling that left Jack knowing in his heart that Mark was not going to hurt him, and that he was truly his friend, and Anti was simply a nuisance that he would be rid of eventually.

 

He did not feel the presence of Anti in this moment. It was as if Mark was blocking the monster out of Jack’s head remotely.

 

Mark did not stop drinking until Jack had blacked out, but he was lost again in a memory before he had the chance to react...

 

The rain was pouring onto his face as he stood helplessly in the street, staring as a horse trampled and kicked his father into the ground. Young Wilford raced to his father’s rescue, only to be kicked by the horse in fearful retaliation. He flew backward, his head slamming into the cobblestones, and his vision went blurry, as he heard faintly the sound of his mother’s screams…

 

Mark came to and reached quickly for Jack, still in a warped haze, the room spinning all around him. He cradled his unconscious friend in his arms, making his way to the couch, until he lost his balance and the both of them toppled to the ground helplessly.

 

The vampire reached toward Jack who had rolled away from him in the fall. His strength failed him, and his arm dropped to his side, his eyes rolling back as he succumbed to unwanted slumber.


	11. Hand of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So let's go back to our cocoon,  
> On a blackened afternoon,  
> I see your heart is bleeding too,  
> Let me bleed instead of you.  
> Let me bleed, let me bleed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy, I am having too much fun with this fic. I loved writing this chapter! Also please check out the song in the chapter summary. "Cocoon" by Milky Chance. IT ROCKS

It had become increasingly difficult to avoid Amber.

 

Ignoring her calls was how it started, then only answering texts a couple of times a day, to not answering at all by the third week. She had the decency not to show up at Jack’s home, so he was thankful for that. He knew the second she saw the marking on his neck, it would all be over. He kept it covered when he went out in public, but he could only keep up the act for so long.

 

Anti had not been as bothersome lately. Jack had learned a few coping mechanisms to keep his anxiety under wraps, much to the god’s dismay. Still, Anti was relentless in his attempts to thwart Jack’s sanity.

 

Jack had just started his shift for the evening, walking past the other CNA’s decorating their home desk for Halloween.

 

“I’m surprised you held off the decorating _this_ long, Trisha,” Jack joked, tossing an orange pumpkin-designed bouncy ball toward the young Pacific Islander.

 

“Shut up,” she snapped lightly, giggling. “It was a struggle.”

 

“I remember last year it was a big deal for you. You started in, what, August?”

 

Trisha rolled her eyes, brushing her dark curly hair out of her face. She kept it tied in a high-bun usually, but stray strands fell down into her eyes from time to time. Jack could never imagine having as much hair as she did.

 

“Don’t you have work to be doing?” Kenneth, the only other male CNA, asked him. Kenneth had a tendency to let his monotone do the talking, literally. Jack was never quite sure if he was being serious or if he was joking.

 

“Erm—“ Jack began, glancing down the hallway quickly to see Amber standing at a desk about twenty feet away. Horrified, his breath caught in his throat as he took a step backward, turning to walk quickly away from her before she noticed.

 

It wasn’t quickly enough.

 

“Jack?” her voice floated down the hallway. He tensed, shoulders up at his ears, and let out the breath he’d been holding. Painfully slowly, he turned around to see her almost running down the hallway toward him.

 

“Amber!” he called, reaching his hand up instinctually to grab the gauze and medical tape over his puncture wound. “Hi, dear!”

 

“Where the hell have you been?” she asked him, a look of concern crossing her face. “I just came here to pick up my pay stub and saw you. You’re not answering my texts. What’s wrong?” Her voice became hushed. “Is everything okay between us?”

 

“Y—yeah, of course,” he stammered, clearing his throat. “Why do you ask?”

 

“Don’t do that,” she warned sternly. “You _know_ why I’m asking.” She glanced at his hand, covering the wound. “What is that? Is that a hickey under there?”

 

“No, dear, absolutely not,” he said, holding his hands out to stop her from getting closer to inspect it.

 

“Are you sure? How do I know you’re not seeing someone else?” Her voice raised shrilly, and Jack worried that others would soon start to overhear the conversation.

 

“Can we talk about this another time? I gotta get a bedpan for an old lady on the fifth floor.”

 

“No, I want to talk about this now, before you run away from me again!” Her voice grew louder as she reached for Jack’s gauze, her manicured fingernails curved like claws, ripping it from his neck. He let out a sharp cry of protest, and Amber stared with horror at the deep scarring that was still in the process of healing.

 

“What…is…that?” she whispered, stunned into stillness.

 

Without a word, Jack grabbed her by the arm, pulling her into the medical supply closet and closing the door.

 

“Jack!” she yelled when he didn’t answer the question. “What the hell is wrong with your neck? Were you attacked? Please talk to me, baby…”

 

“I’m okay,” he said finally, trying to calm her down. Tears glistened in her big blue eyes as she stared at him for more answers. “Well…I guess I’m okay. I really shouldn’t tell you anything. I’m not supposed to. I should be dead already anyways—“

 

“What are you talking about?” she interrupted. “Dead? Seán. What is this? What is happening?”

 

“God,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he massaged his temples. “I can’t! I can’t tell you. You can’t know.”

 

“What, you don’t trust me?” She was nearly in hysterics.

 

“No!” Jack realized quickly this was the wrong answer, backtracking before she exploded on him. “I mean…I want to trust you. I just…if I tried to tell you the truth, you’d think I’m insane. I’m _not allowed_ to trust you.”

 

“Says who?”

 

Struggling for an answer that made any sense, Jack decided to play the pronoun game. “ _They_ do!”

 

“Oh, my God, Jack, seriously!”

 

“If I could just ask Mark what he—“

 

“ _Mark_ is in on this? Dr. Fischbach?” The fiery redhead was very incredulous of this information, but twisted the knife further. “Then I suppose _Mark_ ”—she nearly spat the name at him—“would be happy to tell me exactly what’s going on.”

 

“No, Amber, _please_ ,” the dark haired man begged, his eyes pleading. “He will literally _kill_ us.”

 

“Then. Start. Talking.” Her teeth were clenched in frustration and confusion, growling each word through them slowly and maniacally.

 

Jack inhaled deeply, calmly, before he unleashed the storm upon her.

 

“Mark’s mother isn’t anemic at all,” he said. “She’s actually dead.”

 

Amber blinked wildly, gaping at him, her demeanor softening as the news hit her.

 

“Oh, my God, that’s horrible! Poor Dr. Fischbach—“

 

“She’s been dead a while,” Jack continued, unfazed by her interruption. “She died in the 1400s. I think. Maybe 1500s. It’s hard to keep it all straight.”

 

“Wait,” she halted him again. “Mark’s _mother_ …died…in the 1400s.”

 

“ _Or_ 1500s!”

 

“How is that even possible?”

 

“Well, it wouldn’t be,” he told her, “if his mother was mortal. She is still alive—well, not really ‘alive.’ She’s undead. She’s a vampire.”

 

The young woman blinked again, eyes glazed over in thought.

 

“Now, Mark has been dead for quite some time, too,” he explained. “He was turned into a vampire in the late 18th century. That’s what this is.” He gestured to his neck. “For almost a year now, I’ve been giving Mark some o’ my blood so that he can try and get his human memory back. I have the gift of memory in my blood. But not for every vampire, just for him. Anyway, I let him drink from my neck for the first time and it left this nasty scar.”

 

He let her absorb this information before continuing.

 

“And…here comes the fun part.” He took another deep breath, biting his lip. “I have to become a vampire, too. I don’t know when; I don’t really even know why. But it’s written in The Prophecy. Mark is allowing me to remain human so that I can have more time with you. Because I really like you. I like spending time with you. When I become a vampire, I won’t have my human memories. I won’t remember you. But aside from all that sad stuff, that’s…basically the gist of it all.”

 

There was more uncomfortable silence as she stared at him. Closing her eyes slowly, she breathed in, almost meditatively, and then opened her eyes to look at him again.

 

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, nodding. “You’re insane. I’m calling a doctor.”

 

As she turned on her heel to go out of the supply closet, he grabbed her wrist.

 

“ _No_!” he cried, pulling her into him. “You can’t! I’m…I’m tellin’ the truth! Mark is a vampire! He bit me!”

 

“Stop this stupid shit, Seán.” She swatted his wrist away. There was so much truth in his eyes, but in her mind, she wanted to reject it all. She wished she’d never run into him today. “I want the real damn story or I’m going to Mark myself.” Amber’s voice waivered with uncertainty about her own statement.

 

“He’ll tell you exactly the same thing,” Jack sighed, defeated. “Put the clues together. Mark is always abnormally pale. He is, like, _way too_ suave for his own good…like he was _designed_ to be that way so as to lure in his prey, right? And—why in the Jesus fuckin’ _hell_ would we be in the hospital in the middle o’ the _goddamn_ night to get a bag o’ blood _for testing_? _Or_ for his anemic mother? He was going to drink it because I forced him to eat my Christmas dinner and his stomach rejects human food, so he needed something to offset it.”

 

Her eyebrows knit together as she considered this. Jack continued upon seeing her lost in thought.

 

“He’s always cold to the touch, keeps to the shadows, _very_ antisocial. For Christ’s sake, he’s the _head. Phlebotomist._ Amber, think about what that means. He draws people’s blood for a living.” He stopped, for a moment, running a hand through his hair. “Look, if you want proof…we’ll go to him sometime. Maybe next week. Give you some time to settle into this.”

 

She continued her silence, her eyes darting across his face, looking for any hint that this was a fever dream or a trick. Maybe a Halloween prank. Amber wished—prayed, even—that she was about to wake up from a nightmare.

 

“It’s true,” he whispered. “It’s all true.”

 

“Okay,” she sighed, finally. “Okay. I guess I believe you. I don’t wanna see any proof. Let’s just keep it to ourselves.” She gulped down what she suspected was a combination of bile and an upwelling of emotion…perhaps even fear. “I won’t…I won’t say anything if you won’t.” She held out her pinky for him to grasp with his own, their eldest form of trust.

 

“I’m afraid I will have to let Mark know that I told you,” he said gravely, her hand dropping slowly. “You are in a lot of danger from this point on, as am I. Humans are not supposed to know anything about this. It’s forbidden.” Jack stared into her soul, hoping to instill a sense of awareness in her. “You could be killed, Amber.”

 

She shuddered, taking a step back. “I’m…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you. This is just so fucking _crazy_.” Amber crossed her arms, looking down at the floor. “So, when are you supposed to…you know. Get turned or whatever?”

 

Jack shrugged, a goofy, crooked smile creeping across his face. “Dunno,” he said. “It was supposed to have happened last year. But Mark is kind. He’s giving me more time to live my life.”

 

Amber nodded, still looking downward. “Good friend.”

 

“There’s still a lot to know about it all,” Jack said. “But I’ll leave you with just this.”

 

She grinned, but her heart wasn’t in it. Her eyes didn’t crinkle at the corners like he always liked.

 

“Look,” he started, “if this is…too complicated for you—“

 

Amber held her hand up, hushing him. “None of that,” she said. “Let’s just leave it be for now.”

 

The Irishman agreed, and she turned to open the closet door once more.

 

“Oh!” he remembered. “Uh, one more thing.” She turned to face him, dread in her eyes. “There is an evil ancient Egyptian god dwelling inside of me that sometimes needs to use my body to satisfy his unquenchable thirst for blood and sex.”

 

“Oh, for _fuck’s sake_!” She wrenched open the door, storming out into the hallway. He watched her go, pushing her way past coworkers and patients alike.

 

“My little firecracker,” Jack murmured to himself, laughing.

 

“Seán!” a voice on his pager yelled. “Bedpan! Room 537B! _Now_!”

 

“ _Shit,_ ” he cursed under his breath. He searched wildly through the supply closet for a replacement piece of gauze and some medical tape, bandaged himself up quickly, and grabbed a bedpan, racing toward the elevator.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“ _No_ ,” Mark’s voice was firm, defiant, a little scary as it rose to a volume Jack didn’t expect. “I am _not_. Going to tell you. _Anything_ more. About vampires.” Every word was strictly punctuated with a forceful hand gesture, his fist slamming over and over into an open palm, trying desperately to shut Amber’s curiosity down.

 

“Mark, please,” she said finally. “Seán’s told me everything anyway.”

 

“Oh, _has_ he, now?” The vampire glared at the Irishman, quaking in the corner of the office, far away from Mark at his desk. He could never find a perfect time to tell Mark that Amber knew his secret now, and Jack knew he would be paying for it, especially for starting shit at work. 

 

He had no idea why Amber had decided to bring this up, on All Hallow’s Eve of all nights, but Jack knew her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She hadn’t been able to stop talking about it the last few weeks. “How much blood does he drink?” “Does he kill people?” “How old is he?” “Where’s he from _really_?” The questions had driven him to a point of madness.

 

Jack gulped, shaking his head slowly as his eyes fell to the floor.

 

“Well…” Amber said, hesitating. “Not… _everything_ , I suppose.”

 

“What _has_ he told you?”

 

The small-framed redhead shrugged, her lips forming a hard line. “Just that you steal blood bags from the cooler. And that you’re really old. And that he has to turn into a vampire, too.”

 

Mark leaned into his desk, his hands clasped together, jaw working in overdrive as he grinded his teeth. His demeanor was calm, but the tension in the room could be cut with a butter knife.

 

“I am going to tell you something, and you have to take it very seriously,” Mark growled lowly, the bassy rumble penetrating the already tense atmosphere. Amber leaned one step back from the desk, caught unaware by his sudden shift in tone. “This information cannot go _any_ further than this. Okay? You are already in a lot of danger just by knowing about it. _Jack_ is in a lot of danger because he was supposed to be turned shortly after I met him. It is entirely possible the Ancients already know about your bleak knowledge of our existence, but we’d be better off if they were clueless. Trust me. Your head will end up on the chopping block first thing, followed by mine, and my entire family’s. Period. This is a dangerous, deadly game, and it is not one to be taken lightly.”

 

There was a deafening silence. Mark could clearly hear the two human heartbeats pounding away in his ears, and smell the sweet aroma of fear.

 

After what felt like eternity, Amber spoke again, her voice shaky.

 

“Okay,” she said. “That’s fair. I understand. I’m sorry to have bothered you Dr. Fisch—Dr. Mark. _Mark_. Just Mark. I’m sorry, Mark.”

 

“It’s okay, Amber,” he promised. “I appreciate your cooperation. Just pretend the conversation never happened. Can we do that?”

 

“Sure,” she whispered, smiling softly. “I’m so sorry. I really am.”

 

“Please don’t apologize,” Mark held out a hand to stop the girl who looked as if she would break down into tears any moment. “I didn’t mean to scare you that badly. But you need to understand the severity of this situation. I just can’t tell you anything more.”

 

“So,” she began quietly, changing the subject. “What happens to me then? When Jack is…turned?”

 

Mark shrugged coldly. “You live your life. You move on. Be thankful you get to continue forward.”

 

These words pained her deep in her core, but she swallowed down any emotion about it. She didn’t want to upset Mark any more than she already had.

 

“I guess I get that,” she said solemnly, looking at her shoes. “Sorry for the trouble, again.” She turned, glancing quickly at Jack who was staring at the conversation from the corner of the room, his arms crossed in a protective stance. Tears welled up in her eyes as she headed for the door.

 

“Now, hold on,” Jack called, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a breath. “Can’t we just…I mean, she’s a big part of my life right now, Mark. The least we can do is…let her in on a few little secrets.”

 

“Absolutely not,” Mark snapped, his voice returning to the firm, harsh tone from earlier. “Are you fucking crazy? You _really_ wanna see a bloodbath this badly?”

 

“Do the Ancients know about me yet? For sure?” the Irishman retorted, stepping forward defiantly.

 

Mark blinked. “No, I…I mean, it’s very _likely_ at this point.”

 

“But you’re not _certain._ ”

 

A heartless, small grin curved the vampire’s mouth slightly upward, eyes still piercing through him like a frostbite. “I suppose I don’t know for sure.”

 

“How would they find such information out?”

 

“They hear it, from the confidants, their most trusted sources. Or from familial vampires. Anyone could know and could have given them the information. Their eyes are out there, always searching.”

 

“Okay,” Jack said, his mouth twisting to one side in thought. “But you’re saying you don’t know. So we could theoretically say that they couldn’t find out about Amber knowing, at least for a while.”

 

“Do you want to protect her, or not?” Mark hissed. Amber felt invisible to the two who were talking about her as if she were nowhere to be seen.

 

“I do,” Jack retorted. “I truly do. I think the more she knows about what to expect with me in the coming months, the better.”

 

“Then I trust you’ve told her about Anti.”

 

Jack glanced over at Amber, who stared blankly at the two.

 

“The god,” Jack reminded her. “The one that’s—“

 

“Yeah, the thing that’s not actually happening,” Amber lied. “I know about that.”

 

“I haven’t given her the inside scoop on it yet, but…” Jack trailed off, seeing suspicion on Mark’s face.

 

“Okay, Amber, I’ll cut you a deal,” Mark said, his attention shifting to the girl standing closer to the door than anyone comfortably should. “If you’re willing to sacrifice yourself to have this information, knowing that at any moment, someone could find you in an alleyway alone and that’d be the end of you—then I can let you in on some secrets. But Jack has to reveal Anti to you as well.”

 

Anti purred in Jack’s mind. _That’s if I wish to be revealed, bloodsucker._ Jack groaned, holding his temples.

 

Amber stalked up confidently to Mark’s desk, holding her pinky out. “Deal.”

 

Mark interlaced his pinky with hers. Jack smiled proudly.

 

“And, if you’re asking if I’d willingly put myself in danger just to know more about Jack’s life,” she started, “then…yes. I would. I really…care about him. A lot.” Her eyes met his, and Jack could swear he felt like melting into a pool of happiness. “I’ve never had anyone who makes me feel this way. I wanna know everything I can about him while I have him. It’s only fair.”

 

“So you’re willing to… _die_ for him.” Mark’s response was more of a statement of shock rather than an actual question. Mulling over her affirmation, he shrugged again, pursing his lips. “Alright. Humanity is morbid as fuck. But that’s cool.” He turned to his computer, ready to get back to work.

 

“Show her the thing,” Jack prompted. “The eyes. Vampire eyes.”

 

Mark stopped his hands in midair as they hovered over the keyboard. “Well, to do that, I’d have to get the fangs out too, and you don’t need me to be getting the fangs out at work.”

 

“You did it that one time,” Jack reminded him, “to drink my blood from the mug.”

 

“That was _special_ , it was different,” Mark excused. Jack raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to one side impatiently.

 

“Come on,” he coaxed. “Just once. Show her. She should see it.”

 

Mark growled again, the hair on the back of his neck literally bristling. “Fucking _fine_. Amber, you are not allowed to get scared, alright?”

 

“Okay!” She seemed more excited than nervous as Mark closed his eyes, focusing his energy inward. Upon opening his eyes, Amber gazed into the silver and red irises of the doctor that she only ever believed was simply a man. Her breath caught in her throat as she glimpsed the fangs jutting from his upper lip upon opening his mouth to speak.

 

“See? Not so bad.” He smiled, trying not to show teeth, but the fangs still poked discreetly out of his mouth.

  
“Y—yeah,” she breathed, not wanting to believe this was actually happening. “I…wow. Those are real?” Now curiosity got the better of her, leaning in to study the fangs more carefully.

 

“I wouldn’t get _too_ close,” Jack warned, reaching toward her as if to pull her away.

 

“Aw, c’mon, Jack,” Mark said. “I don’t bite _that_ hard.” He winked at the young girl, chuckling darkly.

 

“Um, ya know, I think it’s actually time for me to get back home,” she announced quickly, backing toward the door. “Thanks for proving it to me, Mark. That’s all I needed to see for now. Okay, bye, have a good shift, Jack!” She opened the door with a _creak_ , racing out into the hallway without even closing it.

 

“She’ll be fine,” Jack assured him as he walked over to the door, slowly pushing it closed. “It takes her a few days to settle into new information. Especially shit _this_ heavy.”

 

Mark closed his eyes, opening them again with his normal deep-chocolate irises. “That’s fair. You really trust her? She won’t tell a soul?”

 

Jack nodded. “I know she won’t.”

 

“I mean…if you two do decide to call it quits…” Mark trailed off hesitantly. Jack knew where it was going, and he stopped the vampire before he could imagine the rest of the scenario.

 

“I understand,” the Irishman said simply. “It would be fair. I get it. But I don’t think it will have to come to that.”

 

“Okay,” Mark said. “Good to know. Because I don’t want to be the one that has to do it.”

 

Jack swallowed, trying not to let the thoughts intrude. “Well,” he yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “I’m gonna head back to my shift. You still leavin’ at five today? I keep thinkin’ you’re on summer schedule still.”

 

“Might stay a little later to catch up on work,” Mark said absentmindedly, returning to his computer. “Gotta get into the cooler later too, so I have to make sure that room will be empty.”

 

“Alright,” Jack sighed, turning for the door. He put his hand up to half-wave at his friend, and Mark met his goodbye with a similar gesture.

 

The vampire was alone with his thoughts, distraught over the fact that Amber’s knowledge would ultimately lead to her death, one way or the other. Best case scenario, she would have to be eliminated after Jack’s transformation, meaning he wouldn’t remember her anyway. Worst case scenario, the Ancients catch Mark in the deep shit he’d been trying to hide from them.

 

If there was one thing he had grown accustomed to over the years, it was playing with fate. This just happened to be the most interesting hand it had ever dealt him.    


	12. Iron and Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Here we are now goin' to the west side  
> Weapons in hand as we go for a ride  
> Some may come, love, and some may stay  
> Watchin' out for a sunny day"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hella Anti ferdayz my friends. archive warning for blood. i mean it's a vampire story so YAKNOW
> 
> also, want to apologize if my story seems lackluster or disjointed in any way. it is definitely a WIP as you can tell, and i just write as it comes to me. nothing is really planned out, although i am currently trying to think of how to end it (eventually).

“God, for the last fucking time, _no!_ ” Jack cried, throwing a dirty sock at Amber’s face. “You’re not coming! Not now, not ever!”

 

“This is so stupid,” she replied, scoffing and crossing her arms. She sat Indian-style on Jack’s bed, pouting and glaring at him after tossing the sock into the floor. “You already cancelled on my Thanksgiving plans with my mom this year.”

 

“You. _Can’t_. Go. To. A. Vampire. Harvest. Festival.” Each word was growled angrily as Jack tried to get her to understand. “You are not even supposed to know. If you keep this shit up…”

 

As he trailed off, Amber picked up the slightest hint that Jack hid worry under his guise. “What? What’ll happen?”

 

“You’re going to be paying for it,” he said softly. “You and I both. Do you understand me? This is final. Go to your mother’s house. She’d love to see you.”

 

“She’d love to see _you_ , too!” she countered. “She’s wanted to meet you for a long time.” After a while of watching Jack dig through his closet, Amber sighed. “I was just kidding, you know. About going. I knew you couldn’t take me. It was really just a joke.”

 

Jack pivoted on his heel to stare toward his bed, almost looking through her. “Don’t make jokes like that, please.” He stoically returned to his closet search.

 

“God, I have to be _so careful_ about everything!”

 

“Yeah, you do! Because you’re holding a very deadly and important secret in your head that could mean utter chaos if anyone knew.” He was having a hard time controlling his frustration, and Anti was loving it.

 

“Well, maybe if we just stop seeing each other for a while—“

 

“No, you can’t do that,” Jack blurted quickly, sloppily, the visions of what Mark told him a few weeks ago flashing through his head. “ _We_ can’t do that, I mean. We need to…we need to work this out. Figure out some way for you to just forget about it.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she snorted, “but it’s a _little_ difficult for me to just fucking _forget_ that my boss is a _vampire_ and that my _boyfriend_ is going to turn into one too!”

 

Jack massaged his temples, trying to calm his racing heart. He unclenched his teeth as he sighed through them, cautiously turning to look at his girlfriend again. His beautiful girlfriend. His beautiful, needy girlfriend.

 

“I wish I’d never asked Mark to drink from my neck,” he admitted solemnly, scratching at the very-much-healed wound on his neck that his friend had inflicted a couple of months prior. “I was in…a really bad place mentally. It was Anti. He was…I honestly kind of wanted to die. I sort of wish Mark had just…done it then.”

 

The redhead girl was silent as tears glistened in her eyes, unsure of what to say.

 

“I’m a little better now,” Jack assured her, although he wasn’t entirely convinced. “This is just really hard, okay? All of this is too much right now. Maybe a relationship wasn’t the best idea. But, like…I kind of…I kind of love you, I think.”

 

Amber’s heart stopped briefly as she pondered the word. “Love.” He just told her he loved her. He thinks.

 

“That’s really important to me,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I…I love you, too. Probably.” Her face cracked into a smile as he made his way to the bed, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

 

“That’s all we need, then,” he announced. “Love! Probably!”

 

Amber giggled as he embraced her.

 

“Sorry for joking about going,” she said. “I really didn’t mean it. I knew you couldn’t take me. Just being pissy about you not being able to make my mom’s thing.”

 

“It’s all good,” he promised. “Everything’s fine. Right?”

 

 _Right,_ Anti whispered. _Everything is going to be okay._ The sinister, high-pitched chuckle told Jack otherwise.

 

Mark arrived within a couple of hours, after Amber had gone home to pack for her trip back to Kansas. Jack, dressed to the nines in a dapper suit, was already waiting by the front door by the time he had received the text that Mark was outside.

 

“Again,” Mark said as he walked around to open up the passenger’s side door, “you look absolutely _ravishing_ , darling.” He faked a posh English accent which made Jack laugh and shake his head.

 

A few miles down the road, Jack realized they were headed to the same hotel as last year.

 

“You done it yet?” Mark asked out of the blue. Jack knew exactly what he was talking about.

 

“I mean, we’ve _talked_ about it,” the Irishman said. “I haven’t felt comfortable bringing him out in front of her.”

 

“Fair enough,” the vampire replied. “How has it been? You dealing with it okay?”

 

“As well as a vessel possessed by an ancient god _can_ be dealing with it,” Jack told him, stifling a laugh at his own dark humor. “We’re kind of getting along. It works.”

 

In actuality, Jack was often not sure what was reality and what was fantasy. Anti had toyed with him almost to a point of breaking him, warping him back and forth between realms of existence and non-existence. Lately, Jack had tried to compromise, giving in to Anti’s desires as much as he could. Allowing him to fuck Amber more, unbeknownst to her. Allowing him to fuck with Jack’s head more. It was strangely therapeutic when he and the god could work out a deal. Jack had considered talking to a counselor or a doctor, but…what would he even say?

 

“Maybe it’d be better if I were around, when you show Amber,” Mark said, interrupting Jack’s racing thoughts. “I could detain him, if need be.”

 

Anti laughed incredulously in Jack’s head.

 

“Yeah,” Jack countered the god. “I think that’d be a good idea.”

 

“So you’re keeping your mind off it? Does doing your YouTube stuff help?”

 

Jack shrugged. “I deleted my channel a while back,” he sighed. “Wasn’t getting anywhere. Wasn’t _goin_ ’ to get anywhere.”

 

“Aw, come on,” the vampire said, “don’t be that way. Can you resurrect it? I know you really liked editing your videos.”

 

“I don’t really have a lot o’ time for that anymore. I work a lot. And spend lots of time with Amber. And try to keep this goddamned…god thing under wraps.”

 

“If you’re sure,” Mark said, worry shrouding his tone. “I thought it was good for you to have an outlet. Especially a creative one.”

 

Jack smirked, rolling his eyes at the thought of creating meaningless art. There were thousands of other YouTubers out there, all doing the same thing he did, only better. Mark even at one time had quite a cult following.

 

“Whatever happened to _your_ channel?” Jack questioned, his memory jogged.

 

“Man, I deleted that shit ages ago,” Mark answered, laughing. “My family didn’t think it was a good idea. I don’t really need to be known to the public. Gets people diggin’ around, y’know?”

 

“Then why even would I start my channel back up? If I’m just gonna die and have to become a vampire?”

 

Mark shook his head, his thumb absentmindedly tapping the steering wheel. “You know, I just kinda thought it would be a nice thing for you to do. That’s all.” He looked in the direction of his friend, who was staring out the windshield, a glazed look in his blue eyes. “I’m worried about you.”

 

Jack blinked, his eyebrows knitting together. “Worried. Why?” His head tilted to one side strangely, his posture rigid and unhuman.

 

“You’ve not been acting right,” Mark told him. “Something’s off with your chemistry. It’s in your scent, it’s in your blood. Are you depressed?”

 

There was no answer.

 

Mark pulled up to the curb of the Beverly Hills Hotel, their conversation put to rest for a brief moment while the glossy-eyed valet took the keys and robotically drove Mark’s Prius to a parking spot.

 

“I’m really sorry about all of this,” Mark said. “I feel responsible. This shouldn’t even be happening to you. Can we…” Jack’s hand rested on the golden door handle, pausing as he turned his head to look at Mark, who had stopped Jack from opening the door. “Can we not let anyone here know about Anti? _Especially_ my parents. I didn’t think you’d tell anyone…or let him loose, for that matter, but…this could mean we’re in more trouble than we originally thought.”

 

Jack smiled, but his eyes did not sparkle as they usually did. “Of course, friend.” The tone was off, and Mark could sense it, but chose to play dumb in the moment.

 

The party was just as huge as last year’s, the same guests never aging, the only thing different about them being their hair and their wardrobe. They remembered the smell of Jack from the year before, so he was mostly left alone, save for a few hungry Ferals daring to get a whiff of him as he passed.

 

They found Mark’s mother and father, quietly sipping champagne at a dark table in the back of the room. Lucien stood and helped Amelia to her feet, both looking exquisite in a dark suit and a shimmering bronze halter-top dress, respectively.

 

“Mark!” Amelia cried, racing to hug her youngest son. She gave him a peck on the cheek and immediately waltzed over to Jack. “And wonderful Jack. How are you, dear boy?” She embraced him as well, the coldness of her skin counteractive to the warmth of her glow.

 

“I’m well, Mrs. Morelock,” Jack said pleasantly, bowing his head slightly. “And you?”

 

She rolled her eyes, tossing her ebony waves over her shoulder. “I’m doing excellent. And you _know_ better. It’s Amelia.”

 

“ _Yes_ , Amelia,” Jack whispered almost to himself, cursing under his breath. “How could I forget?”

 

Mark’s gaze trailed to the corner of his eye, watching Jack’s body language closely.

 

“We haven’t seen each other in a while,” she excused, unfazed by Jack’s strange behavior. “It’s fine, dear. You and Mark have fun tonight. Say hi to your sister and brother, Marquinhos.”

 

“Yes, Ma,” he called after her, watching her walk into the crowd on the dance floor. Lucien approached the two, embracing each of them. His smaller, wiry frame was not to be mistaken for weakness; his hugs were the equivalent of a boa constrictor’s grasp.  

 

“So glad you could make it again this year, Jack,” the older vampire offered sincerely, running a cautious hand over his slicked-back black locks. “We enjoyed your company at the last Harvest.”

 

“I couldn’t turn this down, sir,” he said, smiling. “It was so much fun last year!”

 

“Happy to hear it!” Lucien patted the pair on their shoulder, giving them well wishes as he went to find his wife, both glasses of champagne in hand.

 

“Jack,” Mark began lowly, just at a high enough volume so that Jack could understand what he was saying. “Is everything—“

 

Jack’s head snapped violently toward Mark, a loud _crack_ penetrating the air as the bones adjusted to the force. “Fine? Everything’s dandy.” The voice was piercing, innocent, like a child’s. It was followed by a sickeningly sweet-yet-sinister giggle.

 

“I swear to _God_ , Anti,” Mark began, trailing off as he imagined what all he wanted to do to this creature.

 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Anti taunted, wagging his finger at Mark. “No swearing at gods! Jack’s fine. I’m playing nice. I know my strength here. Any one of you could rip my throat open before I’d have a second to realize it was happening. I’m still just in a human body, after all. And besides…I wanted to enjoy my one-year anniversary of being awakened from slumber.”

 

“Let Jack come back,” Mark growled, angrily. When Anti’s expression didn’t change, the vampire tried a different approach. “…Please?” His eyes glittered like a puppy who had lost its owner.

 

“Groveling,” Anti spat, shaking his head. “I love it. It’s a little beneath you, though. A man of your stature.”

 

Mark rolled his eyes, tossing his head back. “What do I have to do? Please. Come on. I invited _Jack_. Not you.”

 

Anti’s eyes searched the crowd, piercing through the vampires to find what he was looking for.

 

“A sacrifice,” he said finally, “in my honor.”

 

“Wh—what?!” Mark yelled a little too loudly. When he saw eyes glancing over, he lowered his voice. “You want me to _kill_ one of them?”

 

“Not one of _them_ , imbecile,” the god mocked, pointing his chin in the direction of the back where a line of human cattle waited for the slaughter. “A human.”

 

“So, let me get this straight,” Mark said, trying to make sense of this. “You really want to draw attention to yourself, risking not only Jack’s life, but _my_ life, and the lives of my _family_ , just for me to make a sacrifice to you. Brilliant. It’s like you just don’t do logic or something.”

 

“Oh, my, aren’t we jumping to conclusions,” Anti teased in a sing-song voice, clasping his hands together. “You can make a sacrifice in my honor _without_ calling attention to my presence. I will simply follow you to the slaughter and you can do it silently. Like a prayer. Or whatever you prefer.”

 

Mark slowly shook his head. “This is a really bad idea. I haven’t…killed _anyone_ since…”

 

“Your wife?” Anti hissed, his words venom in Mark’s cold veins. “Maybe you should have thought about that when you were sucking the life out of your human blood drive a couple months ago.” Anti’s tone was suddenly vicious, his eyes narrowing accusingly. “Should have just turned him then. Then you wouldn’t even have to deal with this.”

 

Mark’s rage was on fire deep in his core, and he fought to keep control of his killer’s instincts. “No, what I _should_ have done is—“

 

Mark’s retort was cut off by the sound of Lucien, again making his respectful announcement to the clan of vampires, thanking them for their attendance at this year’s Harvest festival. It was the same spiel as last year, giving gratitude to his family and pointing out his children, only this time it was a little different.

 

“I’d also like to thank the human, Seán McLoughlin, who will soon join our ranks as a vampire and has come to his second Harvest festival this year. Guess we didn’t scare him off last time.” He laughed at his own dad-joke, his voice echoing inside the huge room as hundreds of vampires stared down Jack and Mark. Their applause was uncertain, faltering here and there, and not everyone seemed amused or thrilled by any means. Anti smiled evilly, his eyes focused on Lucien, ignoring the bewildered reaction around him.

 

By the end of the speech, Lucien was ready to announce that the traditional ceremony was about to begin. Mark sensed this and ran up to him, standing by his mother on the stairs, and spoke under his breath from several feet away.

 

“I would like to take one human,” Mark said. “If you don’t mind. I think it would…prove my loyalty to our clan.”

 

Lucien was taken aback, glancing over at Mark once more before finally giving the go-ahead for the humans to be brought forward.

 

“Are you sure about this, son?” his father asked, still standing the same distance away, looking over the crowd. “This isn’t really…necessary…”

 

“Yes, Father,” Mark said firmly. “I want to. I’m ready.”

 

Lucien nodded, blinking slowly, before finally giving Mark his approval.

 

“Please be careful, son. Don’t lose control.”

 

With relief, Mark raced back down the stairs, grabbed Anti by the wrist, and led him toward the literal blood bath.

 

Jack was stuck in a haze ever since he had gotten into the vehicle with Mark, and once Anti had taken him, he saw that there was no turning back. He felt like a passenger to his own life, being present but not _really_ being present. He stood helplessly watching by Anti’s side as the god reanimated his own body before his eyes, knowing nothing he could do would stop him.

 

“Anti,” Jack called, but he felt like a hundred miles away. He watched the god being whisked away by Mark toward the human slaughter fest. “Shesmu.” Anti turned, Jack’s vision blurring to the point where he felt like there were four of him up ahead. His darker half smiled slowly and he laughed, the distorted sound piercing Jack’s eardrums with pain.

 

“Please…stop…” Everything was in slow motion as the Irishman tried to run after the two. He just wanted his body back. He wanted to be back in control.

 

Mark took his place behind a young woman, maybe in her 20s, a black pixie cut with a purple fringe framing her pale face. She stared ahead as if she could see death on the horizon, without any disdain or fear of it. It was as if she welcomed it. Anti watched as sharp claws suddenly sprung from Mark’s fingertips, tapping the woman’s jugular vein with caution as he gripped a fistful of her hair to expose her throat. Mark stared directly into Anti’s eyes, locking in with him, giving his entire being to the god before him. There was a powerful feeling of dread that pierced him, but knowing that this could bring Jack back made Mark a little less uneasy.

 

“For Shesmu,” Mark’s mouth moved inaudibly, but Anti made out every word. It boomed loud and clear in his head. “God of bloodshed. He who dismembers.” The vampire dragged his claws over the woman’s throat, opening it violently, the blood spilling into the tub below. Immediately, the sickly-sweet smell of iron and roses hit Mark, and he could taste it in the back of his throat. Jack watched, his stomach churning at the sight of the life leaving the helpless woman’s eyes. Anti himself was impressed with Mark’s dedication, a deadly smile forming on his lips.

 

As the blood began to flow from the fountain, a wine glass was handed to Mark, and he held it below the woman’s throat to collect the final stream of crimson life. Mark was slowly coming to terms with the fact that he had just killed a living being, the numbness fading minute by minute. There was a rush of adrenaline pouring through him as he filled the glass, releasing his grip on her hair as she slumped forward into the tub.

 

Mark circled around the tub, moving toward Anti, whose mouth already watered at the sight of the blood swirling in the glass.

 

Jack’s consciousness was fading as he stood directly beside Anti, outside of this realm, wanting more than anything to knock the glass out of Mark’s hands. He had tried it, and saw that he was simply passing through Mark and the glass yet again. He opened his mouth to scream, emptiness filling the air as his vocal cords failed him.

 

Anti accepted the glass, raising it in celebration to Mark, who was still coming down from the high of having just killed for the first time in decades.

 

“Didn’t think you had it in you, vampire,” Anti mused, bringing the glass toward his lips. “Thank you. I suppose when I am finished with your gift, you can have your precious boy toy back.”

 

“You did promise me you’d let him come back,” Mark reminded him, tension filling the space between them.

 

“Did I?” Anti joked, his wicked smile flashing brightly in the dim light. “I don’t quite remember _promising_ anything.”

 

Mark’s hand shot out and wrapped around the god’s throat, squeezing tightly enough so that a miniscule amount of air could enter his lungs. A surprised squeak escaped Anti, and rage boiled within him almost immediately.

 

Ingram and Gianna happened upon this scene on their way to the blood fountain.

 

“Little brother,” Ingram began, eyes widening at the sight. “That’s no way to treat a guest.”

 

The Korean-German vampire released Anti from his iron grip, and the god grasped at his throat and stumbled backward, coughing violently, being careful not to spill even one drop from the wine glass.

 

“Yeah, Mark, what the hell?” It was Jack’s voice. Was he back already? Had Anti let him return?

 

“Jack, are you okay?” Gianna rushed toward him, rubbing her soft hands along the space between his shoulders. She shot a glare at Mark. “What the hell was that?”

 

“I…” Mark knew he was caught. If he told them the truth, granted that they believed him, he’d have to swim his way out of deep shit with not only his family, but with the Ancients. If he lied…

 

“It’s okay, Gianna,” Jack promised. “It was a play-fight. I didn’t think he’d actually try to win.” He choked as he laughed. Mark was stunned into silence. If this _was_ Anti, why was he trying to _help_ him?

 

Ingram wasn’t convinced. His blood red eyes shifted between the two, sensing something more going on.

 

“Why do _you_ have a glass of blood?” he asked Jack, eyeing him suspiciously. “I don’t think that’s a thing humans like to drink.”

 

Jack/Anti looked down into the glass, swirling the blood around before taking a tiny sip. “When in Rome.” He flashed a brilliant smile.

 

Bewildered, Ingram shifted his attention back to Mark. “Look, just don’t fuck up monumentally and kill your own damn protégée, okay?” The Middle Eastern vampire looked disdainfully at the pair before scoffing and walking away. Gianna smiled at Jack, gave one last look of concern to Mark, and followed her brother.

 

After they were outside of earshot, Mark gaped at the being before him, who had now begun to indulge in the young girl’s blood. He smiled a red, sticky smile, his white teeth stained with his midnight snack.

 

“You’re welcome,” Anti cooed in his petulant voice. “Now…what do you say?”

 

Mark had so many thoughts racing through his head, his anger simmering below the surface. He chose civility for the time being, hoping it meant that Anti would resurface Jack.

 

“Thank you,” he growled through his clenched jaw. “I want to see Jack.”

 

Anti turned the glass upwards, downing the last bit of the blood with a sickening gulp. “Certainly.” Again, the red-coated psychopathic smile lit up his face. And almost within an instant, Jack’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the floor, the glass tumbling away from his open hand.

 

The vampire wasn’t quick enough to grab him before he thudded to the ground, but he scooped up the Irishman and raced toward a restroom in the back, hidden away from the rest of the party.

 

Jack was unconscious as Mark shook him, slapped him a little, called his name, splashed cold water on his face. Within a few moments, Jack came to, sputtering as he coughed himself back to life. Flecks of blood splattered Mark’s face, his gentle hands cupping Jack’s jawline.

 

“Thank God,” Mark whispered, reaching up to grab a paper towel. Jack was leaned against the wall of the bathroom next to the sinks, eyes still not focusing on his surroundings, a single line of blood mixed with drool dripping from his open mouth.

 

“Mark…” Jack groaned, putting himself into a coughing fit again. Mark dabbed at Jack’s forehead and wiped the stream of blood and saliva from his chin. “Where are we?”

 

“The hotel still,” the vampire said, trying to make Jack and himself look more presentable. “Anti had control of you.”

 

“I know,” Jack said softly, staring at nothing. “I watched it happen. But it was like…everything was so slow.” Jack’s words were calculated, painfully drawn out as Mark struggled to be patient with him.

 

“How are you feeling?” Mark asked. “Are you sick? Do you need to go to the doctor?”

 

Jack shook his head, his eyes rolling backward slightly every couple of seconds.

 

“I feel…kind of drunk,” he admitted after a long while. Mark stifled a chuckle.

 

“Well, the only thing you drank was blood, and I’m pretty sure that’s non-alcoholic. At least in my experience.”

 

“Okay.” Jack’s stomach heaved and he gagged, bile and blood rising in his throat, but he fought hard to swallow it back down. He didn’t want to be sick _again_ because of this.

 

Mark waited with him in the bathroom for as long as he felt he could. Jack tried to doze off once or twice, but Mark kept him awake for fear of him slipping into an extreme level of unconsciousness—or even worse, Anti returning.

 

“He is seriously going to pay for this,” Mark growled to himself as he hoisted Jack up into his arms. “This is bullshit. Your second Harvest festival and you don’t even get to enjoy yourself.”

 

Jack opened his eyes, a small grin spreading across his face as he looked up at Mark carrying him. He wrapped his arms around the back of Mark’s neck as the vampire held the grown man like a baby.

 

“I’m thirsty,” Jack said in a small voice. “Is there anything to drink here besides blood?”

 

“Champagne,” Mark told him flatly as they returned to the main ballroom. “Wine, I think. I could ask my father if there are any bottles of liquor around.”

 

Jack’s stomach felt queasy again thinking about alcohol. “No, thanks,” he decided, frowning. Mark tried to put Jack back on his feet, holding the small of his back to support him as he stumbled across the dance floor.

 

Most of the vampires by this point had drank their fill of blood, and were no longer interested in the human that was making his way sloppily across the floor. Mark went to find his family, lingering by themselves away from the action of the party. Jack’s state was deteriorating each minute he was forced to stand on his feet, and the two decided it would be a good idea to leave.

 

“Mark,” Amelia remembered, stopping them from leaving just yet. “Did you get to have any of the Harvest spoils?”

 

The dark-haired vampire shook his head. “No, Ma, but it’s okay.”

 

“You gave your drink to Jack,” Gianna said, as if Mark had simply forgotten that bit.

 

Lucien rested his entire face in one hand, sighing through his fingers. “I knew I smelled blood on his breath. You told us he had been drinking, Mark.”

 

“I didn’t want to…bring that part up,” Mark growled, eyeing daggers at Gianna, who simply shrugged and helped him hold Jack steady.

 

“Marquinhos,” Amelia sighed. “This is a mistake. He is a human. This could really hurt him.”

 

“No, it’s okay,” Jack slurred, smiling a goofy smile. “I’m fine. I do this sometimes when I have blood.”

 

“Oh, for gods’ sakes, just turn him already!” Amelia cried, her crisp accent turning relentless for the first time in a while. “He’s fucking drinking blood. _Shit_ , you really are just trying to fuck with the Ancients at this point, aren’t you?”

 

“You shouldn’t be so careless, son,” Lucien swept in, a more calm and compassionate demeanor. “He is yours to take. If something happens to him, and it ends up being _your_ fault…” He trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence, but deciding that tough love may be the only option left. “I will not stand trial beside you. You need to understand the consequences of your actions, Mark. We love you, and we care deeply for Jack. Take care of him _and_ yourself.”

 

An earlier, younger Mark would have erupted on them, leaving a trail of blood in his destructive wake, but the Mark that was to take a protégé in the near future swallowed his pride.

 

“You’re right,” he offered mildly, bowing his head slightly. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. But…” Mark glanced over at Jack, legitimate fear in his eyes as he realized where the conversation was going. “I can’t do it yet. I need time. _He_ needs time. There are some things left unfinished in his life.”

 

Exhausted with the conversation, his parents let it lie.

 

“If you can promise me that you won’t allow him to hurt himself anymore,” Amelia began, “then…do what you will. But keep in mind what your father said about the Ancients as well.”   

 

“You will be alone, my son,” Lucien reminded him. “And they will be ruthless in their punishment.”

 

Mark pursed his lips, trying to swallow dryness out of his mouth. “Okay. I’ll accept that fate.” He embraced his parents, then Gianna, and walked Jack to the car.

 

The Irishman was seated in the passenger’s side of the Prius, staring at his reflection in the side view mirror. His brown hair was tousled, his eyes bloodshot, and his teeth had remaining flecks of blood on them. Maybe he should be sired soon, after all. Perhaps he really didn’t need to be bothered anymore with his human life. But he did tell Amber he loved her…so that had to go _somewhere_ , right? And his career? His parents? What would become of them when they find out their boy is dead…?

 

Mark’s grip on the steering wheel during the drive back to Jack’s house left him white-knuckled.

 

“I’m so sorry about everything,” he apologized lowly. “I feel like this is the new tradition now. Something shitty happening at the festival and me apologizing for it.”

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Jack told him firmly, his words and his head clearer now. “It was Anti, he—“

 

“It was Anti, it was the fact that you’re a human who drank blood, it was me being a dumbass and not fucking turning you the week I met you…It’s just one thing after another and it always seems like it’s my fault.”

 

“You’re giving yourself a little too much agency, don’cha think?” Jack responded snidely. “I mean…I’ve helped make the decisions that got us in this mess.”

 

“Did you _allow_ a god to inhabit your body?”

 

“No, I—“ Jack stopped, realizing the argument was tiring him out rather quickly. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry too. We gotta figure this out, and we have to do it soon.”

 

Mark agreed, his grip on the wheel loosening slightly. “When do you want to do this, then?”

 

Jack rested his head on the window, looking at the blurry street and sidewalks outside. “I told Amber I loved her today.”

 

Mark sighed, obvious disappointment in the tone. “That does _not_ make anything easier.”

 

“Well, I _do_ love her, Mark.”

 

“That’s awesome.” There was no emotion in the words, almost an absolute disdain for even saying them in the first place.

 

Jack decided to be quiet for the remainder of the ride home.

 

After helping the poor being inside to his bedroom, Mark left the house and locked the door for him, jumping back into his car. He turned up a classical music station, the composers always giving him some amount of peace and tranquility.

 

He couldn’t get his mind off of the fact that he had willingly murdered a young girl tonight. It wasn’t a feeling of guilt, or of sadness…but an overwhelming fear that bubbled up inside him. If he could just do that so easily, what was stopping it from ever happening again? He knew he shouldn’t be able to live with himself after this, but…it just felt…right. Staring into the eyes of Shesmu while he slit open her throat made him feel like a god himself. Perhaps there was a way to appease the god in the same manner, effectively eliminating him from both his life and Jack’s.

 

It would have to involve some trial and error, but strangely enough…Mark welcomed it. He sped back home, trying to ignore the painful growling of his stomach, and hoping desperately there was a blood bag in his freezer.

 


	13. Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lighthouse, shine out  
> Show me what's inside my name  
> Tell me not to be ashamed  
> 'Come out,' I shout  
> I'm bleeding out a backdrop I cannot erase  
> But I don't want to be ashamed  
> No, I don't want to be ashamed  
> Of going...  
> Going home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A dash of light fluff, modest amount of angst, and lots more questions! I needed a little break from the over-arching narrative itself, so here is a shorter chapter for you. Hope you enjoy! We are going to be getting into the heavy shit again soon, so don't worry if you wanna feel sad again!! I have got your back :D

The horrendous, empty sound of the analog clock ticking on the wall seemed to slow down, almost stopping, as Amber and Mark sat together on the couch at Jack’s home, staring at Anti who was seated cross-legged on the coffee table.

 

He had taken Jack’s body again, not by force, as Jack had willingly given over control to him. The dark, fearsome eyes that were once ocean-blue focused in on the two. Amber was too afraid to scream. Mark held a protective arm around her shoulders, feeling her faintly tremble as her heart rate increased.

 

Anti inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and grinning a sharp-toothed grin. “I love the smell of fear in the afternoon.” His eyes, opening slowly, were filled with a mixture of lust and hunger.

 

“What…the… _fuck_ …” Amber choked out, her voice breaking at the end. “Jack? Baby…this isn’t funny anymore.”

 

Anti’s head cocked sideways violently, almost like a bird’s, as his expression went blank.

 

“No, Amber,” Mark began soothingly, tightening his grip around her. “It’s real.” He never once took his eyes off of the god.

 

Anti smiled slightly, understandingly, at the confused and heartbroken girl. She wanted this to be a nightmare, that he knew.

 

“Where are my manners?” Anti chuckled, his head returning to its neutral position as he reached a clawed hand outward to the distressed woman. “I am Shesmu. Jack calls me the 'anti' version of himself. Therefore, my name in this form is Anti.”

 

Amber did not accept the crudely-formed mutant hand, tears filling her eyes.

 

“This cannot be fucking happening,” she said in disbelief. “I can’t…I’m not really _seeing_ this. This is a dream. I’m in a dream.”

 

“You’re in a state of overwhelmed shock and denial,” Anti corrected in his lilting, high-pitched voice, dropping his hand softly beside him on the coffee table. “Not a dream. I really am a god inhabiting Jack’s body.”

 

“Where did you… _how_ …did this…?” Amber could no longer coherently form sentences.

 

Anti shrugged, not willing to go through his spiel again with an insignificant human—one that was going to die for knowing this information at all in the first place.

 

“Jack drank human blood at his first vampire harvest festival,” Mark said, accepting the responsibility of answering for the stubborn god. “And, I guess…awakened Anti, or something. I dunno. Makes no sense in my head.”

 

Anti’s eyes were wide, his mouth curving upward slightly again.

 

“Why would Jack do that?” Amber asked. “He’s…he could like, get a disease from drinking blood.” She glanced over to Mark, fear in her eyes. “Right?”

 

Mark couldn’t look her in the eyes. For the first time since Anti took control, his gaze drifted to the floor behind the coffee table, focusing on a dust bunny on the ground.

 

“I gave it to him,” he admitted shamefully.

 

Amber’s eyebrows narrowed. “Why the fuck? Mark. You could have _literally_ given him AIDS. Or hepatitis. Or anything! What kind of doctor _are_ you?”

 

“Not a real one,” Mark huffed, finally looking over at her. “The documentation’s forged. It…was just to get in to the hospital so that I could meet Jack.”

 

She pulled out of his protective grip, standing so rapidly her head was swimming, and turned to him on the couch.

 

“You are a _psychopath_. If _any one_ of the higher-ups finds out about this—“

 

“We _all_ lose our jobs,” Mark finished forcefully, his eyes locked on her. The gaze felt ice-cold, and she shivered from it, breaking the stare.

 

“This is getting so interesting,” Anti purred quietly, hugging his knees and resting his chin on them.

 

“And _you_.” Amber wheeled on the god, pointing an accusatory finger at him. He laid a surprised hand over his chest, leaning back from her in dramatic fake-shock. “How _dare_ you…take over my boyfriend like this?! What the hell is my life anymore? It’s like everything’s a god damned _circus_ …Vampires! Gods! Prophecy! What the hell is going to happen next? Is my roommate gonna pop into my room one day and tell me she’s a werewolf?”

 

“Werewolves aren’t real,” Mark said softly, ignoring her other, more important questions.

 

She growled, her hair a frizzy mess as she hid her face in her hands. “I can’t take much more of this. I really can’t. I don’t know what to do.”

 

“You keep this information to yourself,” Mark warned. “We talked about this.”

 

“But it’s really hard!”

 

“That’s what she said,” Anti snickered mostly to himself.

 

“Fucking… _ugh!_ ” The redhead picked up a coffee mug on the table and threw it forcefully against the wall, shattering glass everywhere. The sound of the mug breaking seemed to pull her out of her rage-induced trance, and she stopped, her breath ragged as she tried to calm herself before she had an anxiety attack. The tears that had formed earlier were now trailing down her face, and she dropped to her knees on the ground, facing the door as her hair shrouded her from being seen by the two very confused creatures in the room.

 

After some time of listening to her cry quietly, Mark stood, going to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. Anti simply watched in amazement at the range of human emotion he was witnessing.

 

“I just want…my life to be normal again,” she grunted through sobs that racked her entire body. Mark wrapped his arm around her again as he knelt down with her.

 

“I know,” Mark told her. “I do too.”

 

“You want _her_ life to be normal, or you want _your_ life to be normal?” Anti was honestly questioning, as this interaction was no longer going in the direction he assumed it would.

 

“Hush, idiot,” Mark scolded. “I want both our lives to be normal.”

 

“That’s very unfortunate,” Anti said absentmindedly, holding one of his clawed hands out to examine it as he flexed and extended the freakishly-long fingers.

 

Doing his best to ignore him, Mark helped Amber to her feet. She was still weak and shaky from her small fit, but was slowly recomposing herself.

 

“Can I please see Jack now?” she begged, faint mascara trails on her cheeks. “I need to go home and rest. I just want to give him a hug.”

 

Fighting the urge to gag at the human need for affection, Anti growled low in his throat, then sighed longingly.

 

“Ffffff _iiiiiiiiiiii_ ne.” He tossed his head back in exasperation, closing his eyes as he focused his energy inward. Amber barely had time to blink when Jack had returned, gasping wildly for breath as he held his abdomen.

 

“Oh…ungh,” he grunted, hissing in pain through clenched teeth. Amber ran to him and embraced him gently, burying her head in the crook of his neck. “Ah…careful, love.”

 

“Sorry,” she said, pulling back. “I was just…happy to see you.”

 

Jack looked up at her, eyes bloodshot with circles dark as night underneath. “Happy to see you, too.”

 

“Are you alright, baby?” she asked him, concern growing in her.

 

“Y—yeah,” he said, standing with a pained grunt. “I’m fine. This happens sometimes. I’m always better in a few hours.”

 

She wasn’t entirely convinced, but nodded nonetheless.

 

Mark took Amber home, afraid that she might still be too fuzzy to drive herself, as Jack went upstairs to lie down for a bit. As he hit the mattress, not even bothering to pull down his sheets, he glanced over at his full-size mirror on the back of his closet door. Anti was there, seated behind him on the bed, smiling at him.

 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” the god cooed in Jack’s ear.

 

“I feel sick,” Jack said, ignoring the question.

 

“You _always_ feel sick after.”

 

“Did it ever occur to you that it might not be normal or _okay_ for me to feel like this?”

 

Anti shrugged, running a clawed hand down Jack’s side in a strange attempt to almost comfort him.

 

“I’m so tired of this,” Jack said after a long while. He felt the razor sharp clawed hand stop on his hip, gripping it slightly.

 

“What do you want to do about it?” The god’s question was low, growly, the end of his sentence garbled like a sound byte glitching.

 

Jack shook his head, exhaling sharply, stifling a morbid laugh. “Nothing I can do. Not until Mark turns me.”

 

“And then what happens?”

 

“Then...I don’t know.”

 

“You can’t get rid of me _that_ easily, silly,” Anti giggled, returning to his normal squeaky voice as he continued to pet Jack. “Besides. We’re a team, right? You and I, together in one body. An unstoppable force.”

 

“What I want is for the madness to end,” Jack answered, his mind exhausted. “I’m tired o’ being whipped around like a slave boy. I don’t like feelin’ like shit after I’ve let you take control. I _really_ don’t love the thought o’ drinkin’ blood, either. That shit’s for the birds.”

 

“The birds…” Anti pondered silently to himself, his eyes drifting toward the ceiling.

 

“I wish we could just coexist in a way that helped _both_ of us get what we want.”

 

“Maybe we can,” Anti informed him, an excited chirp in his already-insufferable voice.

 

“What _do_ you want?” Jack asked, realizing he had never before been totally honest with him from the start of this.

 

“Oh,” Anti scoffed, “what does _any_ ancient Egyptian deity that awakens in a human vessel really want?”

 

“I…I really don’t know. That’s why I asked.”

 

“To be free,” Anti said, almost a sad tone in his words. “I’ve been asleep for thousands of years, and yet, I know everything there is to know about the world. As if I’ve been a passive observer, but unable to do anything about it.” He stopped his explanation suddenly, his words hanging in the air heavily, and Jack knew that there was more to this story that he wasn’t going to find out about.

 

“What do _you_ want?” Anti targeted the question back at the human, changing the subject.

 

“I just want to…I dunno.” He stopped for a moment, wondering how to phrase his sentence. “I want to be happy? No, that’s not…I don’t care about that. I’ll be dead, I won’t remember what happiness even means. I want to have a sense of…purpose, I guess. Ever since I met Mark, it’s felt like my life has been leading up to the moment in which he makes me a vampire. Before that, it was just sort o’…boring? Like, go to college, get a job, work, retire, die. Felt stagnant. _Then_ I met Amber. And my life feels like it’s worth living again. Except I get depressed a lot because everything is too complicated. And you make me feel miserable.”

 

Anti cocked his head to one side, blinking cautiously at Jack in the mirror’s reflection.

 

“Miserable.” The god’s tongue rolled the word out slowly, as if it were something foreign he had never heard before.

 

The two were silent as they looked at each other in the glass.

 

“So, can we try to get along?” Jack asked, turning to face Anti. He wasn’t sure if the being was actually on the bed with him or if he was in his mind, but it felt real enough in the moment.

 

“We can try to compromise,” Anti said. “That’s all I can promise. I’m not very good at playing nice.”

 

“Fair enough,” Jack sighed, closing his eyes as he clutched his pillow. An unnaturally-cold December breeze from his open window flowed into the room, and Jack felt the chill almost instantly as he fumbled for his fuzzy brown blanket. Anti grabbed the blanket and laid it over Jack’s body gently.

 

“Thanks,” Jack mumbled, surprised. He heard no response. As he opened his eyes again, he saw that he was alone.


	14. Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Baby, we built this house on memories.  
> Take my picture now,  
> Shake it 'til you see it.  
> And when your fantasies become your legacy,  
> Promise me a place  
> In your house of memories."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, being great and updating this fic very often and very well. W R O N G! I have major plans for this coming very soon. Lots of gory goodness and general fucked-up-ness. Patience is a virtue. :D

**2014**

 

The radio seemed to help drown everything else out these days.

 

Jack flipped furiously through his presets, his little Honda Civic gliding easily through the small amount of traffic on the roads. He settled finally on just turning the station off, opting for silence rather than commercial after endless commercial.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, a long, sharp claw reached for the power button, turning the radio back on.

 

Anti sat in the passenger’s seat, beaming at his counterpart with pride.

 

“Why did you turn the music off?” he asked.

 

Jack gave an empty look to him in the passenger’s seat, turning back to the road. He pushed his glasses up on his nose so he could make out the road signs more clearly.

 

“You ever just…” The Irishman trailed off, dissociating again for a brief moment. “No. Forget it. You wouldn’t have any idea what I’m talkin’ about.”

 

“No,” Anti protested, turning the top 40 hits station down to a lower volume. “Go on. Might help to talk about it.”

 

“Sometimes I separate from reality,” Jack admitted sheepishly, not wanting to confide anything in the god, much less his deepest troubles that were inherently related to the being seated beside him anyway. “I wanna listen to music, but when I flip through the channels, it all sounds like white noise to me. My favorite foods don’t taste the same. I dunno.”

 

“Sounds like a personal problem,” Anti sneered, raising his eyebrows as he turned the radio up again.

 

“Yeah.” A familiar feeling simmered in his chest—he wasn’t sure if it was heartburn or anxiety. He whipped his head toward Anti, who was mindlessly enjoying the modern music.

 

“Why’d you even ask me to talk about it?” Jack spat, eyes narrowing as he focused his attention on the road again.

 

The other being shrugged. “I thought I was doing the right thing. Humans ask other humans to talk about their feelings. Didn’t I do a good job?”

 

“You’re a fuckin’…” Jack bit his tongue, literally, tasting a trace amount of iron in his saliva for a few moments afterward. “Thought we were in a compromise.”

 

“We are!” the god cried, a giggle breaking off the end of his sentence. “I listened to you and I gave my opinion. See? We are getting along just fine!”

 

The rest of the car ride home was spent mostly in silence. Jack zoned out a few times, not entirely able to focus on the road. Work had been stressful that day. His feet ached and his back needed desperately to be realigned, but he was alive. Somehow.

 

He thought about why he was still in this. Amber was trying her hardest to be supportive, but she often had to remove herself from Jack and his stress due to her own issues. Mark was being excellent, cutting back monumentally on taking Jack’s blood. “You need it more than I do,” the vampire had told him, a crooked grin sprawled across his face.

 

Anti’s “compromise” was nothing more than simply leaving Jack alone for longer periods of time, and saying something nice every now and then. Jack felt like he had become numb to the sudden appearances and disappearances of the deity, talking to him as if he were physically there. Maybe he was. Jack wasn’t quite sure anymore.

 

It felt truly awful to not have a clear vision of the future. Jack had so many plans as a teenager and as a young adult. Before he met Mark, he was going to continue through medical school to make his parents happy. He knew that wasn’t what he wanted to do, but he was always thrilled when they beamed brightly at his accomplishments in school. When he and Amber first got together, he felt the youth rush through him again, although it was fleeting. After their fifth date, she had kissed him gently, but he had decided not to declare that as “the real thing.” Cupping her soft face in both his hands, he kissed her deeply, with a greater intensity, but soft and sweet all the same. “So…I guess…we’re a thing now?” she had asked breathlessly.

 

His eyes blurred for a moment, and he blinked away the exhaustion as best he could. That was a year ago. They had been together for almost a year now. Had he told her? Had he forgotten to wish her an early happy anniversary?

 

The lines on the road were all running together. He just had to focus—only a few more miles to his apartment.

 

What was the point? What if he just decided…what if he made the decision on his own to end it? No more Anti to pester him. No more Mark to take his blood. No more Amber to make it all about herself. If he just…tilted the steering wheel slowly to the left…just enough to run out of the road—

 

He shook the poisonous thoughts about Mark and Amber and death out of his head. Why was he thinking like this? He didn’t want to…do that.

 

He didn’t want to _kill himself_.

 

He told himself so every night in the mirror. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Everything’s okay. This is going to make sense soon. I’m fine.”

 

A few tears would usually make their way down his cheeks, and he would forcefully wipe them away with a closed fist before trudging off to bed.

 

The wheels had hit the rumble strip on the side of the highway, jerking Jack from his daydream.

 

“Watch it,” Anti snapped. Jack had forgotten he was there. “Carrying precious cargo.”

 

Jack rolled his eyes, choosing not to engage him any further.

 

The car glided into the driveway and he cut the ignition, turning off his headlights and hopping out, reaching into the back of the car to grab his shoulder bag. A Los Angeles February wasn’t supposed to be terribly cold, but Jack shivered all the same in the chilly night air. Upon closing the door, he pressed the key pad to lock up three or four times, just to be sure. He fumbled for his house key, cursing at his unwillingness to change his outside motion light after it had gone out months before. Once he was finally inside, he flipped on the living room light, staring directly at a small gathering of people surrounding a birthday cake on the coffee table.

 

“Surprise!” they yelled in unison. Mark, Amber, Amber’s roommate Stella, Stella’s girlfriend Rochelle, and Stella’s pitbull mix Moxy were all smiles and tail-wags as Jack sauntered in, closing the door slowly behind him, eyes wide with shock.

 

“What…” Jack began, blinking in confusion. “Oh. Oh my God.”

 

“Happy birthday, dude!” Mark came over to embrace him, the coldness of his skin haunting him as he pulled away prematurely. The vampire noticed the skittishness. “Sorry,” he whispered lowly. “It’s been a little while.”

 

Jack chose to ignore the remark, and welcomed hugs from Amber and the others. Moxy offered a celebratory face lick as Jack knelt down to her.

 

“I, uh…” Jack found himself at a loss for words again. “I’m sorry, guys. I kind o’…forgot it was my birthday.”

 

“Jeez, man, how old are you, anyway?” Stella asked, sarcasm dripping in her tone. “Early onset dementia, much?”

 

“Stella!” Rochelle reprimanded her partner, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “She’s just mad I made her wait ‘til you got home to have the cake.”

 

Jack grinned, a small chuckle escaping him. “Well, depending on what kind o’ cake it is, I may have been okay with it.”

 

“It’s that confetti kind you like so much,” Amber interjected. “I remembered it was one of your favorites.”

 

“Oh,” Jack said, putting his hands on his hips, “then I woulda’ been _pissed_.” A quick wink in Stella’s direction told her otherwise.

 

Mark cut the cake and offered everyone a plate, making sure to give Moxy a couple of treats for being a very good girl and not trying to steal the cake from the table. Jack was seated in the middle of the couch cross-legged, holding his cake on one knee while he watched Moxy enjoy her treats.

 

“Anyone want anything to drink?” Amber called from the kitchen, already having a glass of wine for herself.

 

“Yes, please,” Mark said, heading into the kitchen himself.

 

“I think I’ll have _one_ drink, if that’s okay with Stell,” Rochelle taunted. Stella looked over and smiled, unable to fight her even if she tried.

 

“It’s fine, babe. I’ll drive tonight.” Rochelle squeezed her significant other and ran off into the kitchen. Stella remained with Jack, trying not to wolf down the cake as she took a break to fix her styled blue pixie cut.

 

“How are you doing, Jack?” Stella questioned, a bit of concern lurking in her words. The dark-haired man looked up from his cake to find her staring at him as if they were attending his own mother’s funeral.

 

“I’m doin’ alright,” he said through a thin, heartless smile. “You?”

 

“I’m very good,” Stella offered, but trying not to make the conversation about herself. “Just been worried about you lately. Getting lots of…dark vibes.”

 

Jack’s grin went lopsided, and he looked back down to his cake, poking at it with his fork. “I’m gonna be alright.”

 

“I hope so,” Stella’s voice was sincere and collected. Her eyes fell back to the unfinished cake on her plate and she picked it up as Rochelle strutted back into the room with a fruity mixed drink.

 

“Damn, who pulled the plug on this party?” Rochelle joked as she had a seat beside Stella on the coffee table.

 

Jack forced another half-smile as he tried to lie his way out of everything yet again.

 

In the kitchen, Mark was mixing Jack Daniels and Coke for himself while Amber sorted through the various liquors, wondering what Jack might like to drink.

 

“He usually just drinks shitty beer, you know,” Mark offered as he taste-tested his concoction. It was very heavy on the Jack side, and not too much on the Coke side. Perfect. “Like…Coors. Or Corona.”

 

“Yeah, but I thought I’d make him something _nicer_ than that,” Amber said, opening and closing cabinets loudly.

 

“You try Jameson?” the vampire asked sarcastically.

 

“Ha-ha, hilarious. I get it, the Irish thing. Let’s do something not so obvious.”

 

“I’m serious,” Mark laughed. “Just literally give him straight Jameson, and he’ll be fine.”

 

Amber pulled out an empty bottle of Jameson, holding it up and scowling. “Don’t think that’s an option tonight.” She sat it out on the counter for Jack to deal with later.

 

“Jack!” Mark called into the living room. “What do you want to drink, buddy?”

 

There was a moment of complete silence, and Jack’s small voice found its way into the kitchen. “Just some Jameson.”

 

“We don’t have—“ Mark was cut off by Amber.

 

“You’re out of that, sweetie, you gotta come up with something else.”

 

More silence. “Can Mark make me Jack and Coke?”

 

Amber wheeled on the vampire, who stuck his tongue out at her playfully, as he reached for another glass from the cabinet.

 

“Why are you drinking this stuff, anyway?” Amber asked, the slightest bit of venom in her tone. “Thought you were…you know.”

 

Mark’s eyebrows knitted together as he prompted her to finish her sentence. “I don’t…I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“You _know_ what I mean.” The words fell out of her mouth as if she were beyond exhaustion. “Thought you were on a very specific diet. I didn’t know you could have alcohol.”

 

“I can,” he told her nonchalantly. “I just gotta watch how much of it I drink.”

 

“And you’re not having any of the cake?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“What about…all the other stuff? Traditional stuff?”

 

Mark turned to her, a drink in each hand, as he sipped on his own and swirled Jack’s around to mix it better.

 

“I should avoid food as much as possible, but it does nothing for me in terms of nutritional value. I go out in the sun for short periods of time but it does drain me over the course of a couple hours. The mirror thing is just a myth. I can see perfectly how handsome I am.” He laughed at his own joke briefly before continuing when Amber simply raised an eyebrow. “I’m not nocturnal, wooden stakes can’t kill me. Crucifixes and holy water hurt because by all accounts I _am_ technically an ‘unholy being,’ even if I think that’s kind of a bullshit blanket term.” He stopped to collect his thoughts. “Am I missing anything?”

 

Amber tapped her wine glass with a manicured fingernail as she fluttered around the words she didn’t want to say.

 

“So…like,” she sighed heavily, looking behind her shoulder to make sure no one was creeping up on the conversation. “Like, _I_ couldn’t…you know.” The redhead pointed to the side of her neck and pursed her lips, not wanting to be blunt but also hoping Mark got the message.

 

“Oh, no,” Mark answered shortly. “Your name isn’t in the book. To try and…turn you…would just kill you.” He shrugged and took a huge gulp of his drink, finishing it entirely before he had a chance to take Jack his concoction. “Damn, better get more. Could you please take this to Jack? I’m sure he’d appreciate it more coming from you, anyways.”

 

Amber exhaled sharply, brushing unkempt hair from her messy bun out of her eyes, as she glided over to accept Jack’s drink. She held the Jack and Coke in one hand and her wine glass in the other, raising both of them to toast Mark, before retreating from the kitchen. She couldn’t help but feel almost disappointed in Mark’s answer, but she also felt like she already knew the truth deep down.

 

Jack had finished his cake and was in the middle of a conversation about the importance of Taco Tuesday when Amber brought him his mixed drink, beaming happily.

 

“So,” she started as she had a seat next to him on the couch. “I wasn’t able to really get you anything, but we all chipped in together and got you something I think you’re gonna like.”

 

“You got me a present?” his voice squeaked with excitement. “Aw, guys…you didn’t have to.”

 

“We wanted to, so we did,” Rochelle told him, “and you _will_ love it.”

 

Mark came out of the kitchen carrying another Jack and Coke, stumbling slightly on the rug.

 

“It’s in your bedroom upstairs,” Mark said, pointing upward as he leaned against the doorframe for stability. “Already assembled by yours truly.” The vampire bowed and grinned at himself.

 

“And _me_ , dummy,” Amber countered, grabbing Jack’s hand. “Come on!”

 

Stella and Rochelle rushed after them as Jack made way for his bedroom, throwing open his door.

 

A brand new, cherry-red Pearl drum set sat off in the corner where his PC once resided. Jack almost dropped his drink as he chirped gleefully.

 

“That’s _mine_?!” he cried, running over to his new musical outlet. His fingers brushed along the finish, across the bass drum, finally picking up one of the sticks in his free hand. He gave one of the cymbals a gentle tap, the _whish_ filling the empty space. “Oh my _God_ …”

 

Remembering his courtesies, he turned to the group who stood in his doorway, Rochelle with her phone flipped horizontally to record his reaction, and Stella keeping a hand closed over her mouth so she wouldn’t ruin the moment by laughing. Amber’s eyes glistened as she saw, for the first time in a while, Jack’s happiness return in leaps and bounds.

 

“Thank you, guys,” he exhaled, tears welling up as his voice cracked slightly. After sitting his drink down on his dresser, he went back to the group, giving everyone a much-deserved hug. Moxy had made her way up the stairs to see what the commotion was all about, and received love and attention from Jack as well.

 

“It’s seriously nothin’, man,” Rochelle promised, loose curls from her afro bouncing as she shook her head.

 

“We didn’t know you could play until Amber was telling us,” Stella admitted, pointing to her roommate.

 

“Yeah, I…” Jack’s mind wandered momentarily before coming back to the present. “You know what I wanted to do with my life? Before UCLA?”

 

Everyone stared, confusion welling up in their expressions. Mark’s expression was frozen in a haze as he tilted his head to one side.

 

“I wanted to be an actor,” Jack announced proudly. “And I also wanted to be in a successful metal band. I first came to UCLA because it was, y’know, Los Angeles. I thought for sure I’d land a job as a TV extra or somethin’. I was doin’ all these auditions on the side of college for a while, then I kind o’ gave up. But this band had me come in for an audition as their drummer, and I impressed them enough to where they let me in.”

 

“I remember you playing in the band,” Amber recalled, pointing at Jack. “That senior bash for clinical nursing graduates. You were there as a graduate but you also got to play.”

 

“An’ I said we were gonna be playing a show the following night and invited you, but your boyfriend said that didn’t sound like a good time.” Jack was half-joking at Amber, filling the word “boyfriend” with poison, but she only looked down and grinned.

 

“He turned out to be a real winner,” she scoffed, kicking some lint away from her boots.

 

“This is all _extremely_ adorable,” Rochelle began, “really. But, your girl is out of her first drink here, Amber. Would you be so kind…?”

 

Amber laughed as she snatched the glass away from her roommate’s girlfriend, ice sloshing around sloppily inside the glass.

 

“Mark, do you think _you_ could make one?” The young girl handed the glass off to Mark, who took a couple of moments to compose himself.

 

“Y—yeah, of course.” He grabbed it and started to head down the stairs, gripping the banister as he tried not to stumble. “Sex on the beach?” he called, turning back to them briefly.

 

“Mm-hmm,” affirmed Rochelle, winking at the Korean-German.

 

“Oh, boy…” Jack sighed as he and Amber shared a worried glance.

 

“Little drunky, much?” Stella pried, glancing down the stairs to see that Mark had already made his way into the kitchen.

 

“No, I’m fine, guys!” Mark called. Stella’s eyes widened as she turned to Amber and Jack.

 

“How did he hear that?” she questioned with horror in her eyes.

 

“It was probably just him generally talking, Stella,” Rochelle said comfortingly. “You know how drunk people always wanna say ‘they’re fine’ when they _know_ they’re not fine.”

 

“Yeah…that’s it,” Stella convinced herself, and the four plus Moxy made their way back downstairs.

 

After some time, and a couple more drinks in, Mark had almost removed himself completely from the party to hang out in the kitchen with Moxy. Stella, Rochelle, Amber, and Jack were playing Cards Against Humanity when Stella declared that she was exhausted and that whoever was riding with her needed to also become suddenly exhausted.

 

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Amber yawned, covering her mouth with her fist. “I live in a perpetual state of exhaustion anyway.” She turned to Jack, giving him a slow, meaningful kiss. “Hope you had a good birthday, babe.”

 

“I sure did,” he told her, not wanting to break free from the kiss. The whiskey was starting to make him more playful, and…adventurous.

 

“Do you _have_ to go home?” he asked slyly, his finger tracing along her exposed collarbone.

 

Amber blushed, turning away from Jack to hide her grin.

 

“Uh oh,” Rochelle blurted out. “Aw, hell no. I’m not about to watch these two get freaky on the couch.”

 

Stella shrugged. “We could join them?” She winked at Amber to assure her that her offer wasn’t serious.

 

Rochelle stood, putting her weight on one foot while the other hip popped up for her to rest her hand on. “Baby girl, there are one too many dicks in that equation for me.”

 

“I could add a second dick to it,” Mark said, stumbling out of the kitchen with the empty bottle of Jack in his hand. Moxy bounded past his legs, her mouth opening in an enormous yawn before she plopped down next to Stella’s foot. Mark gripped the doorframe as he leaned into the living room, eyeing everyone who stared at him in shock. “Kidding!” He managed a hearty, goofy laugh as he tripped over his own feet to eventually fall into the chair next to the couch.

 

“You sure about that?” Amber asked, one eyebrow raised.

 

“I mean…” Mark threw his hands outward in an over-exaggerated shrug. “You’re all extremely attractive human beings, in all fairness.”

 

“Okay, big guy,” Jack groaned, standing to walk over to Mark, also stumbling slightly due to a level of drunkenness he didn’t expect. “May be time to call it a night, yeah?”

 

“I live for the night,” Mark growled almost sensually as Jack landed in his lap. Jack gasped, stumbling backwards to sit on the arm rest, as he realized where he had fallen.

 

“Oh…my _God_ ,” Stella began. “I think it is most _definitely_ time to leave.”

 

“Amber, you comin’?” Rochelle already had Stella’s keys and was handing them over to her partner.

 

“Uh…” Amber looked over at the two awkwardly sitting together in the chair, one whose face was beet red, and the other who was grinning like a fox at the women. “Jack probably needs some help getting Mark to bed, actually.”

 

“Girl, you _know_ there is about to be some freaky shit!” Rochelle warned, throwing her hand up and waving it as if to dispel an evil spirit.

 

“No!” Jack yelled from across the room, falling into the floor. “No, no…no freaky shit, ladies, promise!” Mark tilted his head again as Moxy rushed to Stella’s side, staring at the women almost as if they were a five-star meal. 

 

“Come on, girl,” Stella cooed to the dog, attaching the leash to her collar. “Alright, guys. If you’re sure you wanna stay, Amber, we’re gonna head out.”

 

“Bye, thanks for coming!” Jack called, waving from his new cross-legged position on the floor as he attempted to subtly rush them away.

 

“Bye, guys,” Amber said as she opened the door for them. “I’ll call tomorrow. Or Jack will drop me off once he’s finished puking.”

 

“Not gonna puke, I’ll be fine!” Jack yelled as the door closed behind them. Stella gave one last, longing look at the drunken Irishman in the floor before Jack was left staring at his door.

 

“Which one of you two is going to do terrible things to me?” Mark purred in a devious tone. Amber rolled her eyes and sighed heavily.

 

“How is this even possible?” she asked, mostly to Jack. “He’s a vampire. He’s not…supposed to get drunk, right?”

 

“He can,” Jack replied, “if he hasn’t fed in a while.” The brown-haired human remembered Mark’s earlier words: “ _Sorry, it’s been a little while_.”

 

“Mark!” Jack whipped his head around, crawling over to the edge of the chair to lift himself up level with Mark as he slouched. “When was the last time you had blood?”

 

“I ‘unno…” The vampire rubbed his face with both hands and moaned softly. “Almost two weeks or somethin’…”

 

“What?!” Jack dug his nails into the arm of the chair. “Mark, that’s seriously dangerous. You could hurt someone—“

 

“I didn’t wanna take any from you,” he admitted sheepishly, looking down at the floor. “And I’ve just been busy lately, I guess. I forget to eat sometimes. S’fine.”

 

“How can you go for _two weeks_ without blood?” Amber was having trouble comprehending the rules of vampirism.

 

“Let’s get you upstairs, Mark.” Jack stood, reaching his hand outward for Mark to take. As he did, the icy sensation of Mark’s hand in his made Jack’s skin crawl, but he forced himself to grip him tighter so as not to let him fall. “Amber, can you get the other side?” The Irishman crawled his way under Mark’s shoulder, wrapping his right arm around Jack’s right shoulder and holding his wrist firmly. Amber did the same at the left side, and the three awkwardly paraded up the stairs and into Jack’s bedroom. Mark was plopped heavily onto the queen sized mattress, and Jack assisted him with removing his shoes.

 

“What’s going to happen to him?” Amber asked nervously. “This isn’t good for him to be this way.”

 

“You might want to go downstairs,” Jack told her, his icy-blue eyes boring into hers. “He needs blood. There’s literally nothin’ combating the alcohol in his system right now. You don’t wanna see it.”

 

“Says _you_ ,” Amber retorted, hurt by the assumption that it would bother her. “I draw people’s blood all day, every day. I’ll be fine.”

 

“You’ve never seen a vampire feed,” Jack snapped. He pondered those words for a moment before he spoke again. “Granted, guess I never really have, either. But he’s fed from me before, so I’m used to it.”

 

“Well…” The young girl danced around the subject, trying to come up with another excuse to stay. “What if you need me? If I’m downstairs, I can’t…help you if you need it.”

 

Mark choked then, trying to swallow the parched feeling in his mouth to no avail. “Jack, don’t do this,” he protested weakly, trying to push the human away with a tender hand. “You don’t have to do this. I’m fine, I’ll be okay.”

 

Jack was already rolling up the sleeve on his left forearm, not listening to his friend’s pleads.

 

“Alright, you can stay,” Jack told Amber after some time. He held his wrist directly beneath Mark’s nose, and the vampire inhaled deeply, pupils dilating as the irises turned silver and red. Amber gasped quietly at the sight of his pointed canines. The fangs grazed softly over Jack’s pallid skin, locating the pulsing vein before sinking in quickly. No more room for protesting, it seemed. Jack sucked in a breath as the teeth plunged through his wrist, wincing a little as his eyes closed.

 

“Are you okay?” Amber gingerly stepped forward, somewhat shaken by what she had seen already. She didn’t realize it would bother her as much, but…seeing her direct superior biting into her boyfriend’s arm and sucking his blood was a little more than she would have ever imagined she’d see.

 

“Fine,” Jack assured her, recomposing himself. He felt the tingling sensation of warmth flowing from Mark into his bloodstream, electricity pulsing in small waves of euphoria. “I’m just fine.” Jack stroked Mark’s tangled mess of black hair as his best friend continued draining plasma from him. Mark was trying to control his pleasurable moans as his fingers wrapped tight around Jack's wrist.

 

“How—how long can he do that?”

 

“Couple more minutes.”

 

Jack was beginning to see spots in his vision. He knew Mark’s feeding time was almost up. Anti was in the back of his mind for the first time in hours. “ _I can help you again—if needed_.”

 

“That would be great,” Jack answered aloud.

 

“ _What_ would be great?” Amber questioned.

 

“A trick I learned with Anti.” Jack gave his friend one more minute of feeding before focusing his energy inward, his eyes opening to an expanse of blackness, veins running dark in his forearm. Mark gulped loudly and retracted his fangs from Jack’s flesh, eyes wide as he stared in shock at seemingly nothing. His mouth fell open, a bit of blood dribbling out, and Jack knew he was reliving a moment in the past.

 

Outside an outdated church. A sunny autumn day. A chill in the air. His hand wrapped up in the softness of his bride’s hand as she placed a ring on his finger. He leaned in to kiss her, her vibrant light-green eyes closing as her lips met his passionately.

 

Without any further hesitation back in the present, the vampire closed his eyes, his fangs reforming back to his regular canines, and fell into a deep slumber.

 

Jack’s veins ran from black to blue and his eyes returned to their normal color. Amber gawked first at her significant other and then at the sleeping Mark, back and forth, until an answer was provided.

 

“We learned that there’s something Anti can do to stop Mark so that when I start feelin’ lightheaded, he just gets his little _visions_ , or whatever, and goes to sleep,” Jack explained. “It doesn’t hurt him.” He narrowed his eyes, mulling over the words. “Right? It doesn’t hurt him?”

 

Anti hummed in agreement in his mind.

 

“The first time Mark drank from my neck, I ended up losin’ consciousness but I think Anti had something to do with Mark passin’ out as well.”

 

No answer from the deity, but Jack knew that was as good an answer as any.

 

“Okay,” Amber breathed, nodding slowly in exhaustion. “Okay. This has all been very _interesting_. It’s time for bed, now, I think.”

 

Upon seeing that it was almost three in the morning, Jack concurred. They both decided to give Mark his space in case he woke up still hungry and bit one of them in a sleeping haze, so the pair found themselves cuddling half-slouched on the couch until the sunlight streamed through the blinds.


	15. Viscera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have seen what the darkness does,  
> (Say goodbye to who I was.)  
> I ain't never been away so long,  
> (Don't look back, them days are gone.)  
> Follow me into the endless night,  
> (I can bring your fears to life.)  
> Show me yours, and I'll show you mine.  
> (Meet me in the woods tonight.)"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this might??? Be my fave chapter??? I've written so far??? Also, check that out, it didn't take me well over a month to update. How nice!! I'm not even gonna try to guarantee this will ever happen again, but appreciate it for now.
> 
> TW: blood, knives, gore, graphic imagery, but like this is a vampire story so....yeh

Darkness had fallen by the time Mark decided to leave work for the evening, and so he waited for Jack’s shift to end so that he didn’t have to walk out to his car alone. The lingering freshness of spring was in the air as the two left the hospital, Mark carrying a couple of extra blood bags in his briefcase. Summer was very near according to the cicadas chirping through the soft nighttime breeze. Mark wished winter were still around.

 

Jack started to continue past Mark’s vehicle toward another direction when the vampire stopped him.

 

“I could give you a ride to your car,” he offered. Jack shook his head.

 

“Think I’m gonna go for a walk in the park before I go home,” Jack told him. “I like to do that to clear my head.”

 

“It’s a little late for that.” Worry crept into Mark’s tone, but he didn’t dare try and stop his determined friend.

 

“I’m fine!” He was already walking away from Mark as he spoke. “I’ll give you a ring if I run into trouble.”

 

An eerie sensation of dread and doubt washed over Mark as he watched Jack walk out of the streetlights and into a wooded park across the street. He could always _follow_ the young human into the park…just to be sure nothing would go wrong. However, Jack would find huge fault with that in the essence that Mark was untrustworthy of his intentions. Mark fought with his emotions for several minutes before deciding to hop into the car and drive out of the parking garage toward his townhouse.

 

Jack fought past limbs and bushes, spider webs and thorns, using his phone as a flashlight to get to the clearing in the woods. It was very rare that anyone ever came out here, especially at this time of the evening. He often spent his time here trapped alone in his thoughts, and typically Anti was present with him, but for the moment, the god was occupied elsewhere. Jack took this as a sign to simply appreciate nature, the freshness of the night air, and his solitude.

 

Dropping his shoulder bag to the ground, he sat down in the grass next to the tiny lake, tossing pebbles in every now and then. The tree that drooped its huge branches over the lake was gone now, felled by a logging effort to make the lake more accessible to fishers and swimmers. The Irishman didn’t appreciate the decision made by the city council, but there wasn’t much to be done about it now.   

 

Jack wished he had brought a flask of whiskey with him while he meditated, but perhaps the soberness of the moment was enough. Thus far, the only positive thing about the tree being gone was that Jack could see the reflection of the full moon on the surface of the water, rippled by the breeze and by the small pebbles he threw.

 

A twig snapped in the distance somewhere behind Jack. He glanced around his shoulders left and right, making sure no one was trying to sneak up on him. Instead of taking his chances, he repositioned himself to where his back was facing the water rather than the woods. Peering through the darkness, he could see nothing was coming for him, after all. Better safe than sorry, even though he very much wanted to look at the moon through the lens of the water.

 

After some time, he realized that the twig breaking was likely a woodland creature or the wind displacing nature in such a stereotypically-spooky way. He stood, picking up his shoulder bag, and headed in the direction to the east of the lake instead of the way he came originally.

 

This path was darker, more treacherous, as he swam through onslaught after onslaught of prickly brush and sharp twigs. He felt a sudden, warm trickle of blood running down his cheek and the sting of the fresh wound in the chilly night air after moving past a particularly pointy bush. Jack felt the urge to glance over his shoulders, paranoia keeping him in constant check of his surroundings, before moving onward at a faster pace. He was never afraid of the dark as a child, but his imagination was running free as an adult thanks to every scary video game he’d ever played.

 

His phone slipped through his fingers, tumbling to the forest floor a few feet in front of him. Cursing at his carelessness, he moved slower through the thistles and briars until he could reach down to pick it up. The flashlight on the phone illuminated a small circumference where it had fallen, and just to the north of the circle of light was something lying on the dirty ground.

 

No, not something. Some _one_.

 

Jack’s breath caught in his throat as he halted mid-stoop in the adventure to pick up the phone. His eyes didn’t want to travel any further to figure out _who_ it might have been that was lying on the ground. Were they drunk? Asleep? Knocked unconscious by something? But not… _dead_ , he hoped.

 

He picked up the phone, flooding the person with a small beam of light. It was a woman, unfortunately as Jack could tell by her breasts spilling out of a ripped-open floral blouse. Her wild auburn hair was splayed out around her face and across the ground in front of her, tangled in massive heaps and slick in some parts with what Jack regretfully assumed to be blood.

 

“H—Hell…o?” Jack whispered meekly, already knowing that she wouldn’t be able to respond. He reached forward with a trembling hand to brush the hair away from her face. Her expression was blank, glazed eyes staring into absolute nothingness. Jack’s fingers accidentally touched her ice cold skin and he shrunk back, gasping. It felt like Mark’s skin after a while of not feeding, and the thought made him sick to his stomach.

 

His eyes traveled further down once her hair was out of the way to see a deep gash in her throat. A puncture wound, like a barbecue fork had been stabbed into her neck. Jack’s mind whirled—stabbed, punctured, bitten…

 

Bite mark. Fangs.

 

Vampire.

 

“No…” Jack whispered in disbelief, falling backward away from her. “It’s not…”

 

Mark was the only vampire in town. Right? That was what he had always assumed, although it wasn’t clearly obvious who was a vampire and who wasn’t upon a quick first glance. There were millions of people in Los Angeles every day. Any one of them could be a vampire. Mark didn’t do this.

 

Mark _didn’t_ do this...right?

 

Jack’s hand was instinctually on his phone, ready to dial Mark’s number, when this nauseating realization stopped him. If Mark _did_ kill this woman…

 

No, it was too much. Mark didn’t kill humans. And he certainly wouldn’t leave the evidence lying around.

 

 _Come on, Jack_ , he told himself, _don’t be an idiot._

_“Call him,”_ Anti hissed in the back of his mind. _“This is bad.”_

 

“This _is_ bad,” Jack realized aloud as he held the phone to his ear.

 

Mark had just arrived home, slinging his coat haphazardly onto the coat rack and placing his briefcase on the floor next to the couch. Something was telling him that he shouldn’t have left the parking garage, instead opting to just wait there for Jack to come out of the woods. What if something happened to him and Mark would never know? He knew that fighting with himself was never going to solve anything, so he made his way to his computer to drown out the world for a few hours online.

 

His phone vibrated in his pocket. God _dammit_. He should have stayed.

 

Lightning-fast reactions allowed him to pick up the phone after the first ring.

 

“Jack!” he cried, already standing and running to the door. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

 

“Mark! There’s…” Jack was exasperated, out of breath, like he had just run a marathon. His voice quivered on the verge of tears. “A body. The—the woods. A girl was…bitten. A vam—a _vampire_ , Mark. I know it.”

 

Mark’s stomach dropped into his knees and his teeth clenched at the word. Jack’s words all ran together as Mark grabbed his keys and his briefcase and ran out the door, jumping into the car and starting the ignition.

 

“Stay with it,” Mark commanded calmly, throwing the vehicle into reverse out of the driveway.

 

 “St—stay?” Jack asked, his breathing slowing down. “But I—“

 

“ _Please_ ,” Mark begged. “I can track your scent easily which will mean I find the body as well. I have to clean this up. We can’t let the police on this right now. Do you understand? Please stay with it.”

 

The word “it” chilled Jack to the bone as he held his knees close to his chest, staring at the poor, dead woman before him while he sat a few feet away. Like she was no longer “she” or “they” or anything. She was “it.” She was “the body.” She no longer existed.

 

“Do you understand?” Mark asked again, exasperated at Jack’s delay.

 

“Y—yes,” the Irishman stuttered. “I’m right here with…it. I’m not leavin’.”

 

“Good. I’ll be there shortly. Don’t move.” Mark stopped, letting the realness of the moment sink in. A horrible thought came to mind. “If…the vampire comes back…” He stopped, unsure how to finish the instruction.

 

“What do…what do I do if he comes back? Or she?” A wave of dread washed over Jack as he thought of the possibility that he really _wasn’t_ alone here with the body. Complete silence from Mark told Jack all he needed to know if it did come back for him.

 

Mark’s voice was grave in his soft baritone. “I’ll be there in five minutes.” The line went dead. Jack was alone. With “it.”

 

Jack thought back to earlier, by the lake. The twig snapping softly in the distance. Did it come from this direction? How had he not heard anyone scream or struggle or _anything_ beyond a twig snapping? Maybe she wasn’t killed here. Maybe she was just dumped here. Maybe it was time to stop thinking about it. His head was aching from his heartbeat thumping in his ears so loudly.

 

He heard a sound, off in the distance. Footsteps coming toward him.

 

 _Mark_ , he thought. _Has to be_.

 

…But what if it _wasn’t_?

 

 _“No,”_ Anti purred. _“It is Marquinhos. If it were a different vampire, you’d already be dead.”_

_Way to reassure me…_

 

The familiar shape of his friend was instantly visible, pulling a tree limb back away from his path, briefcase in one hand. Mark’s eyes were already fixated on the corpse in front of him, kneeling down to inspect it. Jack crawled over carefully, slowly, on hands and knees so as not to disturb the “doctor” at work.

 

After several minutes of Mark’s own investigation, he pulled his briefcase out from behind him and popped it open. His extra blood bags were inside—those should have been put in the refrigerator—along with a slew of paperwork neatly organized in colorful file folders. Jack stared quizzically at the briefcase, holding his phone up to illuminate the scene for his human eyes.

 

“What are you doin’?” he asked.

 

Mark moved the file folders out of his way and gently removed the cover to a secret compartment in the bottom of the briefcase. He pulled out a trench knife, over a foot in length, the blade gleaming in the soft light of Jack’s phone.

 

“What’s that for…?”

 

“The unfortunate thing about being a vampire in twenty first century America,” Mark began, fingering the blade, “is that no one can just be left as a corpse to be discovered. Police investigations, FBI, questioning, witnesses…all that fun shit. But, you can’t very well erase all traces of a person from the earth, either. Vampires do have to feed, y’know. But people actually _care_ about the people they lose in this age. You gotta…mourn them, have eulogies and all that. I remember a time when that was different, but…” He held his hands out in his signature enormous shrug pose, gripping the knife in one fist. “…Here we are!”

 

Reaching down, he gripped a fistful of the young girl’s hair and pulled backward to reveal her throat. He positioned the trench knife’s blade right on the front of her neck, and started to saw through the flesh.

 

“What the _fuck!?_ ” Jack cried, hiding his face in his hands. Mark stopped slicing long enough to look up at him incredulously.

 

“What?” the vampire asked. “Her body’s drained of blood. There’s no other evidence anywhere on her that suggests who, or _what_ , did this. I’m removing the part of her with a clear bite mark. The police will have to deal with the rest of it, of course, but for the time being, the vampiric species is off the hook. We just have to make sure we dispose of the head properly and pray to whatever god you believe in that the police just never solve the case.”

 

Mark pursed his lips, peering off into the distance. “On the other hand,” he continued, “the police these days are not…incredibly bright. Still, head’s gotta come off.”

 

He went back to chopping, and Jack peeked a quick glance at the action. The girl’s head was almost completely removed, muscle and bits of sinew forming a string away from the spinal cord. He gagged, feeling as if he needed to purge his dinner, but swallowed it back hesitantly. He closed his eyes again for the remainder of the process, trying desperately to block his ears from hearing cold steel hacking through flesh and bone.  

Mark stopped cutting, using an old cloth to wipe the blade free of the remaining flesh and what little bit of blood was left in her throat. He lifted the head by the hair, brandishing it as if it were a trophy, smiling sadistically at Jack.

 

The human gawked at his friend with baleful eyes, his stomach still doing somersaults as he tried to overcome his wooziness.

 

“We should leave,” Jack announced, getting to his feet and dusting himself off as he adjusted his shoulder strap.

 

“We have to find who did this,” Mark said, stopping Jack from walking away further into the woods.

 

“Are you serious?” Jack questioned in a hushed tone, just in case the monster was lurking nearby. “It’s really fuckin’ late, and I’m exhausted. I just want to go home.”

 

“Okay.” Mark shrugged, putting his knife and paperwork back into the briefcase. He removed his over shirt and wrapped the severed head in it. “Suit yourself.” The vampire began to move away in the direction he came from.

 

Jack tensed up, shoulders at his ears, as he looked in every direction before walking quickly away with Mark.

 

The pair escaped from the woods and onto the streets much quicker than they had gone in. Streetlights were still blazing above, but the cicadas had stopped chirping for the evening.

 

“If we continue on foot,” Mark told his companion, “I have a better chance of tracking him. I got a pretty clear scent of who we’re dealing with back there.” He stopped at his vehicle to toss the briefcase into the trunk, along with the young woman’s head. Jack handed off his shoulder bag to Mark so he didn’t have to carry it on the new adventure.

 

“We can’t stay out too late,” Jack warned. “If the cops _do_ happen to find out about all this, they’ll have dogs on the scene before you know it…and they’ll smell the fuck out of what you’ve got in the trunk.”

 

The immortal glanced quickly at the trunk, then back at his friend.

 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he surmised. “We’ll be quick about it. Then we’ll have this chick’s head on a pyre in no time.” He stopped to inhale slowly and deeply, getting his bearings before deciding to walk further into town.

 

His senses led them downtown to a crowded sports bar called Sepi’s. As it was a weekend, most of the crowd was drunken undergraduates and a few older veteran sports patrons gathering to watch nothing in particular while drinking themselves into oblivion. Mark and Jack both cautiously made their way to the bar, where Mark had spotted who he believed to be the vampire in question.

 

There were no empty bar stools next to the woman, a college-age looking individual herself, with a stylish bob of dark brown hair fading into deep red tips. Her leather jacket was coiled up in her lap, her shoulders exposed in a spaghetti-strap top, and she kicked nonchalantly with her combat boots since her feet didn’t reach the ground. Mark managed to weasel his way between the stranger and another patron, ordering himself an old fashioned.

 

“You want anything?” Mark turned to Jack. The woman breathed in slowly, closing her eyes, as she savored the scent of Mark. She turned her head to look over at him, hazel eyes full of fire, as a wicked purple-lipsticked grin spread across her face.

 

“Do you have Miller on draft?” Jack asked, and the bartender nodded before moving onward to assist someone else.

 

The woman took a long, refreshing sip of her sazerac, eyeing Mark up and down.

 

Mark met her gaze, his dark chocolate eyes peering into her as if he were trying to read her mind.

 

“How you doin’, sugar?” the woman asked, her sultry voice taking on a Southern belle charm.

 

“I’m well,” Mark replied. The bartender sat their drinks down in front of him, and he handed Jack’s beer off to him. “You left quite a mess out there in the woods, you know.” The half-German vampire took a slow, calculated sip. “I gotta say, I’m not a huge fan of cleaning up after other people. The Ancients don’t take lightly to carelessness, either. Kind of in the rulebook.”

 

The woman frowned. “How unfortunate.” It was then that she peered back behind Mark to see Jack. Her eyes lit up at the scent of the young human. “And what’s this? For me?” She turned back to Mark and chuckled. “You shouldn’t have.”

 

“He’s with me, actually.” Mark’s voice, coated with venom, was stern and deadly. “And you’re not to touch him.”

 

“ _Oh_ …” she replied, winking. “I understand. Can’t say I pegged you for _that_ type, especially with a human. The intimacy sort of…pales in comparison to people like us.”

 

Jack choked on his drink. How many times has this happened, again?

 

“No, it’s…” Mark looked around, lowering his voice even further. “…Not like that.”

 

The mysterious vampire’s eyes went cold for a moment, the lines in her forehead smoothing out, as she realized who she was talking to.

 

“He’s _yours_ ,” she noted quietly. “You’re the one who hasn’t turned his protégée yet. The Morelock boy. The half-breed.” She snickered slightly at the turn of events. “Marquinhos. My, my. Looks like I’m not the only one breaking the rules at this party.”

 

Mark’s pride took a subtle blow at her jest. After another sip of his bourbon, he slammed the glass down on the bar. Jack jumped at the sudden sound of glass smacking wood, but it was lost to most everyone else in the building due to the noise.

 

“And who might _I_ be speaking to?” the black-haired vampire quipped.

 

The woman smiled thinly. “Naia,” she responded. “Naia, of the Karayan clan.”

 

“A Karayan,” Mark repeated, nodding. He took another drink. “Your line is mostly Feral?”

 

Her eyes glittered. “Indeed.”

 

“I’m sure I’ve seen you around at the Harvest.”

 

“I remember vaguely,” she answered. “Now that I think of it, I remember this one there as well.” She gripped the sleeve of Jack’s hoodie and tugged gently upon mentioning him. “I never got a clear view of either of you, so my apologies for not recognizing you.”

 

“No offense taken,” the male vampire responded. He finished off his drink, but Jack had only taken a couple of nervous sips of his beer. He wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from this interaction and in his own bed, alone with his own thoughts. He never thought he’d wish for _that_ in a million years.

 

“Excuse my mess,” Naia giggled insincerely. “We outta-towners don’t think too much on stuff like that. The south is full of forests and swamps to hide the bodies in. Guess I just assumed this could be more o’ the same.”

 

Mark took some money out of his wallet, enough to cover all three beverages plus the tip, and slid it across the bar to the barkeep. Naia grinned subtly, tossing back her drink to finish it off. Jack continued to sip idly.

 

“Why don’t we take our conversation outside, my Karayan lady?” 

 

She stood, draping her leather jacket over her shoulers. “Of course, darlin’.”

 

Jack left his unfinished Miller on the counter as the three stalked their way slowly through the crowd, pushing drunken students out of the way, to exit through the alley door. It creaked loudly and sharply, piercing in the sensitive ears of two undead beings. Once they were outside in the cool, freeing atmosphere, the door closed behind them, Naia turned to Mark.

 

“I’m not sure what else there is to talk about,” she mused, her smile crooked. “You cleaned up my mess for me. I don’t have to do anything. I’ve been reprimanded.” She held her hands up in surrender. “You got me.” Another tiny cackle.

 

“The point is that I can’t do this for other vampires,” Mark explained harshly. “I live _here_. In this city. You don’t. I’m one of the only vampires in the city. I’ve never had this issue with anyone else. I can’t have this shit traced back to me somehow. You’re making it really hard for me and for any other vampires to maintain a low profile because of pure selfishness. So _please_ , if you would…” He stepped closer to her, his eyes locked with hers. “…Don’t do that again.”

 

She laughed once, coldly, an ominous sound in the darkness of the alleyway. Without a second thought, she slammed her fist into the side of Mark’s skull and delivered a vicious kick to his abdomen that sent him flying several feet away and rendered him senseless.

 

Jack gasped, staring at Mark heaped on the cold, damp street.

 

“Mark!” he called as the vampire subtly began to regain his motor functions. “Get up!” He glanced over to see Naia’s piercing red eyes staring at him hungrily. “G—get up!”

 

His feet wanted to take him elsewhere, but his knees were locked and he couldn’t move a muscle. He stared as Naia came closer to him, not wavering in her step, fangs glistening as she aimed for his throat.

 

Mark staggered to his feet, yelling out to her.

 

“Naia!” he cried weakly. She halted, for a solitary moment, and turned to gloat at the weaker vampire.

 

“If you’d stop pussy-footin’ around,” she growled, “and drink human blood straight from the source, you might have the strength to beat me.” She laughed menacingly as she stalked over toward him. His stance was unsure, faltering, as he struggled to maintain balance. His head swam drunkenly and he felt a sharp pain in his stomach.

 

“When _was_ the last time dear Marquinhos fed from a human?” Naia teased. Mark swung at her with claws and she ducked at the last second, the wind from his failed blow whipping above her head. “Pathetic.” She grabbed his head in both hands and brought his forehead down onto her knee with a force that would have instantly killed a human. He groaned, falling to his knees. A tiny stream of blood poured from his nose and dripped onto the pavement before him.

 

“I’m gonna really enjoy suckin’ your boy over there dry,” she told him, leaning down to almost whisper it seductively in his ear. “Oh, yeah…and I’m gonna eat him, too.” She chuckled softly at her own joke and stepped backward away from Mark.

 

With a sickly-sweet smile plastered to her face, she turned to face her next meal—Jack—only to be met with empty black eyes and a clawed hand shoved into her gut.

 

Her mouth fell open in shock and pain, staring into the face of the god who had taken Jack for the time being. Anti smiled, sharp fangs showing, as he wrenched his hand further into her intestines. Labored gasps and choked grunts emitted from Naia’s throat involuntarily.  

 

“This one is mine,” Anti sneered in his trademark voice. “And the vampire kindly asked you to leave him alone…didn’t he?” He twisted again, in the opposite direction.

 

Naia felt the sting of the claws piercing through her organs and she gulped loudly, biting back tears.

 

“ _Answer_!” the god cried, his voice distorted.

 

“Y—yes…yes…” she whined. “I’m…sorry.”

 

Anti grimaced as he pulled his hand out, dragging bloodied viscera with it. In an effort to instill even more shock in the terrified vampire, he lifted her entrails to his mouth and took an enormous, savory bite.

 

It took everything within her not to scream in agony and frustrated terror at this being that she assumed was merely human only moments ago.

 

“What…are you…?” she asked through ailing gasps.   

 

“Something that is going to change everything,” Anti cooed, blood coating his teeth and mouth as he offered another devious smile. He indulged again in his visceral meal.

 

“The…Ancients…” she tried to remind him. “They won’t…like this…”

 

Anti’s black eyes grew impossibly wider. “Oh, no, dear child. You have no idea the plans we have made. I’ve said too much already. You should sleep, now.”

 

She whimpered once more before Mark returned behind her, snapping her neck harshly to the side as he dragged her to the brick wall and brutally smashed her brains into it.

 

The body fell to the ground in a thump before the flesh began peeling away from the bone, organs and muscle and skeleton disintegrating slowly into ash and dust. The intestines in Anti’s clawed hands fell away into nothingness. Mark shook his hand off, blood flying in all directions, and he wiped the mess onto his pants.

 

“You owe me,” Anti growled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

Mark nodded once, respectfully, and placed his hands on his hips.

 

“Why would you help me?”

 

“I helped _Jack_ ,” Anti corrected. “It’s a good damn thing, too. You’re both going to fuck around and end up getting him killed.”

 

The vampire looked down at the ground, exhaling sharply. “Yeah. You’re right. I should have let him go back home. This was a bad decision on my part.”

 

Anti scoffed. “Too late for half-assed apologies now, vampire.”

 

“I’ll be more careful with him.”

 

The god’s eyes trailed up and down Mark, studying his posture. Weak, exhausted, and not ready to have a newborn fledgeling vampire of his own to look after. Anti pursed his lips, thinking to himself.

 

“You’ve been having a hard time lately,” he surmised in his high-pitched voice. “I could help you.”  

 

Mark’s eyebrows knitted together. “Help me _how_ , exactly?”

 

“I could show you control,” Anti told him. “You don’t feed on humans because you’re afraid you’ll lose the person you’ve become. You’re afraid you’ll kill them. What if I told you that I could assist you? Drink what you want, but let me do the rest. The humans live, and you regain your strength.” He spoke like a crooked businessman trying to oversell a poorly-made product. “It’s simple. Your choice.”

 

The vampire was silent, playing the words over and over in his head.

 

“We make a good team,” Anti coaxed, continuing to push an agenda with potential ulterior motives. “I may not have been able to kill that vampire in this body, but you couldn’t have done it without me tonight, you know. What do ya say?”

 

Mark’s instinct was just to roll his eyes and turn away, leaving Anti in the alleyway alone. But something about this offer sounded extremely enticing. Drinking blood from the source again _did_ make Mark light up inside. He hoped it wasn’t some kind of cruel trick. He decided to play his cards safely for the time being.  

 

“It’s getting late,” was Mark’s answer. “We should get Jack to bed. Been an exhausting evening.”

 

Anti smiled, closing his eyes and bowing his head in reverence toward Mark. “We’ll be in touch, bloodsucker.”  

 

Almost instantly, Jack sucked in a huge breath as he returned to his own body, falling to his knees to catch his breath, retching at the vile taste of recycled blood and cold, dead meat. Mark limped over to him, attempting to help him to his feet.

 

“No!” Jack cried, pushing Mark’s feeble attempts away. “No! I…Why did he make me _eat_ that?! I’m—“ The Irishman vomited then, the disgusting innards of Naia returning to the ground before him in a sickening spray of red and brown and grey ash. Jack wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie, clearing his throat, breath ragged in his chest.

 

Mark stepped away, kneeling down off to Jack’s side rather than trying to assist him. “I’m sorry,” the vampire apologized. “I’m so sorry that this happened. But…Anti helped us.”

 

A short surge of rage filled Jack briefly as he considered this, but his anger faded into numbness.

 

“Yeah,” Jack said with no emotion. “I heard the conversation. I don’t trust it.”

 

The Korean vampire nodded, agreeing with Jack for the time being, but feeling the tug of Anti’s tempting words at the back of his mind. He sighed heavily as he stared into the lonely streetlight above them.

 

“Are you going to take him up on it?” Jack asked, a slightly frustrated overtone in his words.

 

Mark’s silence told him everything he needed to know. He shook his head and avoided Mark’s sorrowful gaze, reciting Naia’s words from earlier.

 

“How unfortunate.”

 

Forcing himself to his feet, a swirl of emotion running through his head, Jack walked away from his friend and from the troublesome ventures of the evening.


	16. Smart Little Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Traveling somewhere, could be anywhere  
> There's a coldness in the air, yeah, but I don't care.  
> We drift deeper into the song, life goes on  
> We drift deeper into the sound, feeling strong.  
> So bring it on, bring it on...  
> Embrace me, surround me, as the rush comes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just go ahead and let you know, this chapter is almost purely some smutty business so don't expect much else and I'm a little bit blushing as I post this tbh. Sorry for the long wait!! Hope you guys enjoy.
> 
> (PS: how 'bout that "Who Killed Markiplier?" I'm in love! Happy October!)

It was late summer when Mark approached Anti about taking him up on his offer. He had no clue if this was the worst decision he had ever made in his life, but he knew that Jack was still angry about it.

 

“This is a really bad idea,” Jack had told him, sitting cross-legged on his bed. Mark was in Jack’s old computer chair across the room, rocking back and forth as it squeaked loudly with each move he made. “He’s goin’ to change you, Mark. He changed me.”

 

“I need to be stronger so that I can protect the both of us,” Mark argued. “The situation with Naia may not be the last time I need to kill a vampire who’s trying to hurt us.”

 

“But _Anti_ took good care of me, didn’t he?” Jack spat, scowling at his alter-ego’s name. “So we really didn’t even need you to do anything.”

 

“The only thing that can kill a vampire is another vampire,” Mark explained, exasperated. “The head has to be removed and destroyed somehow. Or there’s talk of a blessed, ceremonial blade that can be stabbed into the heart, but I’ve not come across one in my entire lifetime. Either way, has to be done by a vampire.”

 

Jack shook his head, exhaling slowly. “I just…don’t like it. It sounds fishy of him to offer this.”

 

“I’m a big boy. I can handle myself.” The Korean grinned at Jack, who couldn’t help but force a sad smile.

 

“Still worries me.”

 

“I understand,” Mark said, “but you’ve gotta trust me. I’d never let him change me in any way. I need to feed from the source to get stronger. I _have_ to gain my strength if I’m going to train you as a fledgling.”

 

“Alright,” Jack agreed after several minutes of running through every awful scenario in his head. “Okay. But I really don’t wanna hear it when he becomes a fuckin’ menace after fifteen minutes of hangin’ out with him. And you better not fuckin’ kill anyone!”

 

Mark remembered the police case of the girl who was found in the woods, the body he had removed the head from. It had taken a week or so to find her, and she had been identified as someone named Skylar Forgettable-Last-Name. He kept the local news out of his life for those few weeks. Jack did the same. No one ever suspected either of them and Mark needed to keep it that way if he wanted to continue living here.

 

The vampire frowned, concern wrinkling his forehead as he thought about something else. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I mean…” Mark gulped. “I don’t think he’s ever had control of you for longer than an hour at a time or so.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Jack lied. “Don’t worry about me.”

 

The sick feeling in Jack’s stomach that made him nearly vomit after Anti’s possession of his body had gotten much worse with each occurrence, except the problem had now moved to his head. A pounding, horrific migraine would overtake and incapacitate the human, crumpling him to a heap in the floor for a few minutes until it faded into a dull headache. The high-pitched ringing in his ears usually remained as a constant reminder for several hours afterward.

 

“If you’re sure,” Mark said uncertainly.

 

Jack closed his eyes, focusing his energy toward the darkest part of his consciousness. Curiously, Jack himself opened his eyes to Anti sitting before him on the bed, a long claw pressed to Jack’s lips.

 

“Shhh!” Anti hissed at the confused human. “Time for beddy-bye.” A wicked smile broke across the god’s face as Jack’s vision blurred, and a piercing high-pitched screech grew louder by the second. He fought the overwhelming feeling of slumber, trying to scream to Mark for help, but was unable to stop the inevitable. It almost felt like drowning, or being trapped in a dream, trying to cry out but unable to do so. He was going to sleep so Anti could do what he wanted with Mark, without Jack’s immediate knowledge.

 

 _I knew it_ … Jack thought. _Knew you couldn’t be trusted._

 

Anti cackled, a sound that tore through several octaves in a glitch-like fashion. The screeching sound inside Jack’s head grew so loud and intrusive that it felt like his skull was going to split in half, and the last thing he remembered was holding his temples and screaming for it to stop.   

 

Before Mark on the bed sat Anti, black eyes opening quickly, his fingers growing into the abnormally-long claws.

 

“Vampire,” the god greeted, pressing his hands together in a meditative position as he bowed his head at Mark. “How wonderful it is to see you this evening.”

 

“Did you do something to Jack?” Mark stood quickly and—in a blur—was directly in front of Anti. “His face looked…really distressed. Right before you took over.”

 

“He’s resting,” Anti told him matter-of-factly. “Tonight is for the boys. Jack will only feel left out if he’s forced to watch everything from the outside.”

 

The dark-haired vampire didn’t seem convinced with this answer.

 

“Oh, come now,” Anti whined. “I’m ready to have fun. Jack is fine, I promise. Sleeping will help him immensely when it comes time for him to return to his body.”

 

Mark sighed, accepting the answer in a defeated manner.

 

Anti’s eyes narrowed, staring through Mark as if there were no one there.

 

“You want…something else out of this.” It wasn’t a question as much as it was an observation.

 

The vampire was taken aback.

 

“What…what do you mean by that?” he asked incredulously. “I just want to be able to control my thirst. I want to _not_ kill people. I don’t get what—“

 

“When was the last time you were intimate with someone?”

 

Mark stopped, the words caught in his throat. Blinking the confusion away, his lips parted slightly as he realized what was going on.

 

“That’s not really…a necessity for me.”

 

“It was…ah, let me guess…” Anti closed his eyes, holding his temples with his clawed hands, as he sucked in a meticulous breath. “1959.” His eyebrows knitted together in a way that made him appear to be in pain. “Zhara.” Anti opened his eyes to Mark, unable to meet his gaze as the vampire stared at the wall beyond the two of them. “No need to be impressed. I know I’m right.”

 

“I have no desire for that anymore,” Mark growled lowly, monotone in nature.

 

“That is not _entirely_ true, now, is it?” The deity lurched forward, positioning himself on his hands and knees, as he looked up at Mark with a glint of mischief in the dark expanse of his eyes. “You are a man. You have…cravings.”

 

Mark grinded his teeth together, frustrated. “Can we just get on with the blood drinking thing? I’d much rather have that than anything else right now.”

 

“What if I could help you have both?” Anti questioned, grinning. He rose slowly and gracefully from his hands and knees to stand in front of Mark on the floor. “Of course…you’ll need a little blood in your system before you can…you know.” He winked at Mark and chuckled darkly.

 

“I mean,” Mark sighed, already exhausted and the night had barely begun. “Fine. Fucking…fine, whatever. Sure. Let’s go get me laid, since it’s _so_ important to you.”

 

“I think you’ll feel a lot better,” Anti purred, spidering his claws across Mark’s scalp, fluffing the dark locks. “Speaking of feeling better…I need to slip into something more comfortable.” Anti’s eyes returned to Jack’s normal baby-blue, and the claws, fangs, and black veins disappeared.

 

“It’s been decades,” Mark reminded Anti as the god inhabiting Jack made his way to the closet to pick something different to wear. “I’m probably out of practice.”

 

“Oh, I’m willing to bet you are,” Anti answered, half-listening while he unveiled one of Jack’s suits from a garment bag. He pulled it out—a long sleeved white dress shirt with a dark navy jacket and pants. “This will do.” Anti began stripping the t-shirt and jeans from Jack’s body.

 

“ _Oh_ , hey!” Mark exclaimed, turning away, “Erm…I’m gonna head downstairs and wait for you there, okay?”

 

“What’s that?” Anti cooed, a grin plastered on his face as he balled up Jack’s dirty t-shirt in his hand. “Not comfortable enough in your sexuality to see your friend almost naked?” He pitched the t-shirt carelessly into the laundry bin on the opposite side of the room.

 

“Oh my _God_ , it’s not about that,” Mark sighed. “It’s about giving _Jack_ his privacy. I’m going to grab something to eat. Finish getting dressed and then we’ll go.”

 

The Korean-German vampire rummaged through Jack’s refrigerator in the kitchen, finding a couple of backup blood bags he had left here just in case he needed them. He could have sworn at one point that he specifically left three bags here, but only two were able to be located. Mark hated to think that Jack would have actually _drank_ one of them, but these days, he wasn’t sure what to think anymore.

 

Anti pranced down the stairs, jumping from the third stair and landing gracefully in front of the door. He had donned the suit and found a matching tie and some glossy black loafers, completing his look with Jack’s trademark thick-rimmed eyeglasses. Mark had just finished warming the blood bag as the imposter Jack fluttered into the kitchen.

 

“Don’t I just look dashing?” the god beamed, holding out his arms as he spun around to give Mark a 360 degree view.

 

“Mm-hmm,” the vampire mused solemnly, taking a long sip of the mug full of B negative. He let the blood dance around his taste buds before swallowing, the heat of the plasma nearly scalding his throat. He realized these moments, in which he could indulge in the life force of some unsuspecting human, were the closest he had come to orgasmic pleasure with a woman in several decades. Maybe Anti was right after all. 

 

“You’re really going out dressed like _that_ , then?” Anti was incredulous of Mark’s attire: a v-neck black t-shirt, a ripped pair of jeans, and red Chuck Taylors with the laces untied and broken.

 

“Yeah? What am I supposed to be wearing? Before literally _five minutes ago_ , I’d assumed I was just gonna go drink some blood and we’d come back home.”

 

“And now you’re partyin’ with me,” Anti said proudly, gazing at Mark in a way that seemed to say he pitied the undead creature. The doppelgänger’s expression then changed to one of mild disgust as he eyed Mark up and down. “It’ll have to do. You look…fine.” Anti sighed, turning away from Mark as he paced while pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll need to alter my plans a bit, but it should still work.” He spun back to Mark, nearly finished with his pre-game meal by this point. “I hope you’re ready to have some fun, bloodsucker.”

 

Mark shrugged half-heartedly. “Sure thing.”

 

The vampire realized later, upon seeing that Anti had pulled up to a neon-lit nightmare called The Playpen, that maybe he shouldn’t have allowed the god free reign to drive him wherever he wanted.

 

“A strip club.” Mark’s tone suggested he was shocked at this, but he knew in his heart that there is never a reason to be shocked with Anti in the picture. “You’re serious?”

 

“We’re here to take care of both your wants,” Anti said in Jack’s voice. Mark was glad to be rid of the squeaky, child-like vocalization that was the god’s norm. “And, y’know. If there happens to be an… _accident_ …it’s just a stripper, after all.”

 

“No, it’s _not_ ‘just a stripper,’ it’d still be a tragedy either way,” Mark argued, fighting to keep his volume down as they walked toward the building. “These women deserve as much respect as any other. They aren’t just bodies to use and throw away.”

 

“I’ll be sure to respect them wholeheartedly,” Anti promised, rolling his eyes. The pair entered the building, got past security, paid the cover charge, and made their way first toward the bar. Mark was going to need a little bit of liquor to get through this night in one piece.

 

After several shots of whisky for the both of them, Mark found himself receiving a lap dance from, what the management had called, their “top earner,” a curvy, Latina dancer with long wavy hair as dark as her eyes. Her get-up consisted of mostly a fishnet body stocking, with black undergarments to match, and a spiked choker. Anti sat in a chair facing away from Mark’s, the backs of the chairs touching each other, as two girls shared him equally—both fair-skinned redheads with bright blue eyes. They reminded Mark of Amber, in a morbid kind of way.  

 

Mark turned his head slightly to check out what was going on in Anti’s position, only to have his jaw grabbed and pulled forcefully to face his own dancer.

 

“Am I not doin’ it for you tonight, darling?” she whimpered, the subtle hint of a moan at the end of her sentence.

 

“Oh, yes, of course you are,” Mark offered as sincerely as he could. “I’m just having a bit of a…dilemma.”

 

Anti’s ears perked up as he removed his tongue from the mouth of one of his redheads. “No dilemma, Markimoo. Enjoy yourself. Need another drink?”

 

A waitress was immediately at their sides, holding a tray decorated with cocktails and shots of liquor. “Pick your poison,” she whispered in Mark’s ear, and he grabbed two shot glasses and gulped them both down within a few seconds of each other, slipping her a ten dollar bill.  

 

“Damn,” the dark-haired dancer sighed. “Never seen a man take shots like that in my life.” She leaned in to him, looking up at him through wispy eyelashes and smoky black makeup. She ran her jewelry-glittered fingers from his chest to his crotch. “Oh…” Her smile turned subtly into a frown as she floated a hand along where there should have been a bulge in his jeans by this point. “Looks like you _are_ having a dilemma after all.” She pulled back, climbing up onto his lap and rested her hands on his shoulders. “Tell me what I can do to get you there, cariño.”

 

Mark knew that the answer was that he needed more blood, but he had no idea how to get it. He shouldn’t have waited so long to get this party started, but he was stuck for the time being. Anti seemed to sense that this was the problem, however, and formulated his own plan to get Mark more of what he needed.

 

“Just work him a little longer, Envy,” Anti told the disappointed stripper. “He needs more time. Viagra isn’t what it’s cracked up to be, these days.” The god chuckled at his own joke as Mark scowled, glaring out of the corner of his eye.

 

Envy, as Mark had just now come to know her, ducked her head down into the crook of Mark’s neck and shoulder, laying gentle, warm kisses along his collarbone and up his neck to his jawline. His eyes rolled back and a moan caught in his throat as he smelled the scent of her blood and heard her wet pulse pounding in his ears. He hadn’t felt this hungry in a long time…but he wasn’t sure if it was for her blood or for what she could do with her body.

 

Mark’s jeans _were_ suddenly a little tighter. Maybe just the scent of the blood was helping him? Envy noticed the perk in the fabric as well, and went one step further by nibbling on Mark’s neck. He grabbed her hips as she slowly began to writhe around on his crotch, feeling the warmth of her sex even through the jeans.

 

“How much would it take to get you in bed with me?” Mark’s voice was like honey in her ear as Envy struggled to compose herself. “I’ll pay any amount. I just need to fuck you senseless, pretty thing.”

 

Anti smirked as he stood to address his cohort of red-haired beauties.

 

“I’d love to have the both of you tonight,” Anti said, glancing them up and down hungrily. “Unfortunately I can only go with _one_ …hmm. Let’s see…eeny meeny miney moe…” His finger danced from one woman to the next, back and forth, until he finally pointed to the one who called herself Gingersnap—Ginger, for short.

 

“Looks like you are it, Miss Ginger.” The other dancer, known as Pumpkin, sighed and shrugged as she walked away, seemingly disheartened that she wasn’t Anti’s choice.

 

“Darling,” Anti began, turning to his remaining dancer, gripping both her hands in his. “Ginger. I have a very special job for you this evening.”

 

“What might that be, Jack?” she asked. Anti felt something in his core about using the name “Jack.” Something that felt akin to guilt.  

 

“We’re going to follow my friend Mark and his new toy Envy into one of the private rooms. Does that sound fun?”

 

A blank look crossed Ginger’s face as she stared into Anti’s eyes, which swirled ominously with a hint of the dark void.

 

“Yes,” she replied mechanically. “That sounds…” Ginger shook her head, her loose curls bouncing around the oval frame of her face. “That sounds very nice.” Instantly, she was back to her normal self, but was still more than willing to follow Anti anywhere. “Y’know…I adore your accent. It’s Irish, right?”

 

“Indeed,” Anti told her as he patted Mark gently on the head, breaking Envy’s trance on him. Mark and Envy both got to their feet, the latter breathless as the former tried to control the overwhelming desire to tear into her throat.

 

“Oh, are you…joining us?” Envy questioned, a concerned look spreading across her face as she turned to make sure none of the chaperones were paying close attention.

 

Mark placed his hand around the small of her back. “No one’s going to say anything to us. It’ll be really fun.” He urged her forward, and the group allowed Ginger to lead them to the room located furthest away from the action.

 

After Ginger unlocked the door with a key hidden in her necklace, Mark and Anti found that there was only one bed, albeit king sized, decorated with freshly-washed pink sheets. The mood lighting was red in tone, almost violet in a couple of the bulbs, and the walls were thankfully soundproofed so that very little of the bassy rhythm entered the threshold.

 

“Ginger, would you follow me into the bathroom over there for a moment?” Anti asked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders from behind to whisper in her ear. The vibration of his voice sent chills down her spine, but she agreed nonetheless. Mark watched the pair as they walked away, and Anti turned to wink at his friend.

 

“What can I say?” he mused. “This flesh has…a type.” They disappeared behind the closed bathroom door.

 

Envy made her way to the bed, throwing off the decorative pillows and patting a space next to her for Mark to sit.

 

“I gotta say,” she started, “I haven’t had a proper orgy in a long-ass time.”

 

Mark cautiously sat next to her, keeping his ears on whatever Anti was doing with Ginger in the bathroom. “Yeah, can’t say I have in…also a long-ass time.” There was a brief, awkward pause as Mark tried to make light conversation with her.

 

“So, you, er…” he began, clearing his throat. “You’re also a…prostitute?”

 

Envy threw her head back in a sincere chuckle. “I don’t work the streets or anything, but…yeah. Lonzo, the club owner, he started pimping us out back a few years ago. Lotta girls left over it, but the few of us who had bills to pay…we stuck around. I was in college, debt up to my eyeballs. Wanted to be a professor. A mythologist. But my grades dropped and I got really depressed…” Envy looked downward so she didn’t meet Mark’s saddened gaze, taking a breath in to refresh herself. “Anyways, I didn’t care much for the sex work at first, but…” She trailed off, forcing a crooked, hollow smile. “Puts a roof over my head and food on the table.”

 

The vampire mulled over the words. “If you aren’t…like, if you don’t wan—“

 

She shushed him by pressing her lips to his in a passionate, fiery kiss. Her black eyes met his, the corners of them crinkled by a big grin.

 

“I want to do this with you,” she promised. “I’m sorry I brought up my past like that. It isn’t very workplace-appropriate.” Envy winked, beginning to remove her fishnet body sleeve. 

 

“Enough about me, though,” the Latina prodded as she crawled over to where Mark sat, wearing nothing save for her bra and underwear, fingernails digging into his shoulders and clawing down his back. “What kind of dark secrets are _you_ hiding?”

 

He grinned as he thought about it, almost feeling the sharp point of his fangs developing in his mouth.

 

In the bathroom, Anti had found a tall water glass and sat Ginger on the counter facing him. She instinctually spread her legs open for him as he leaned in, placing himself between her knees, his hands on the counter on either side of her thigh. He ducked his head into her, inhaling the scent of her skin as he kissed along her neck and up to her lips. Ginger moaned softly, wishing his dress pants and her panties were out of the way. Sensing that she was ready to take him at any moment, he pressed his hardness teasingly into her soft lilac underwear.

 

“Now, my dear,” Anti whispered sensually in her ear as he pulled back to remove his glasses, sitting them on the counter. “We’re going to do something a little more fun.”

 

“Mmm…” the redhead sighed, unable to form a more coherent reply.

 

Anti’s eyes bled into darkness, and the sharp claws formed from his fingers. Staring into Ginger’s eyes, she fell into another trance, slack-jawed with a glazed-over expression.

 

“Shhh…” the god warned, pressing a claw to his lips. Placing the water glass on the counter next to her, he grabbed her right wrist and held it over it, his claw positioned on the blue, thumping artery. “Don’t tell anyone.”

 

His claw-finger slid over her wrist, opening the artery as her blood poured quickly into the glass. He was careful not to spill any or make a mess that would very likely later cause a scene. Ginger still stared forward at nothing, her mouth agape in shock and pain. Her vocal cords fought to cry out, to scream for someone to help her, but she knew that the creature in front of her had total control. All that came out of her were a couple of agonized squeaks.

 

After the glass was filled, Anti began applying pressure to the wound with his hand to try and stop the flow. He focused his energies on closing the skin, and within moments, the bleeding had stopped and her wrist looked as if there were only a mere scratch tainting it.

 

“You did a _very_ nice job, little slut,” Anti praised, walking over to the sink to wash the blood from his hands. Ginger continued to stare forward. “It’s time to forget all this now, okay?” He grabbed either side of her face in his hands, forcing her gaze to meet his, even if she seemed to be in another universe. “Go back to the party. You never saw Jack. You never saw Mark. Find Pumpkin. Find a patron. Just forget.”   

 

Ginger blinked rapidly, smiled, and nodded once at Anti as she slid down from the counter and exited the bathroom.

 

Out of nowhere, Anti’s head felt ten pounds heavier and he saw spots in his vision. Stumbling slightly, he gripped the counter for stability, being careful not to spill the glass full of blood. His body suddenly felt overwhelmingly weak.

 

“Ah, shit…” he cursed, squeezing his eyes shut. “That’s not good.”

 

Taking a moment to collect himself, he glanced in the mirror, watching as his black eyes returned to the color of Jack’s and his claws and fangs disappeared. Anti picked up the glasses in one hand and the blood in the other, making his way out of the bathroom.

 

He managed to stumble upon Mark’s head between Envy’s legs, nibbling gently on her inner thighs while his fingers were plunged inside of her, the both of them completely naked. The nude woman’s eyes were rolled back in her head, her body twitching with raw, unused energy.

 

“Couldn’t even wait on me, then?” Anti teased as he put his glasses back on, strutting over to the bed and holding the glass of blood toward Mark. “Drink this.”

 

“What…is that…?” Envy questioned through gasps. Mark removed his fingers from her and sucked them clean, taking the glass from Anti and pressing it to his lips.

 

“Oh, oops!” the god cried, grinning as he playfully covered Envy’s eyes with his hand. “No peeking, pretty thing! It’s a surprise.”

 

“A…surprise?” she asked. Her mouth pressed into a hard line as she thought of another question that changed the subject. “Where’d Ginger run off to? I didn’t…have time to stop her.”

 

“We were a little busy,” Mark said after finishing the entire glass in half a minute’s time. Anti’s eyebrows raised in surprise and he took the empty glass away from Mark, removing his hand from Envy’s eyes.

 

“Seriously, though…what was in that glass?” Envy laughed nervously as Mark moved down toward her center again, this time attacking her clit with his tongue as his fingers worked into her again. His mouth felt warmer this time, and she wasn’t sure why. Envy’s eyes closed again as she took in the pleasure of having Mark touch her this way. Anti turned away to rinse out the glass in the bathroom.

 

Mark felt his fangs in his mouth and the urge to feed became overwhelming. He kissed his way back down Envy’s inner thigh, pushing it slightly to reveal a dark blue vein on the inside. The vampire’s tongue traced a little circle as he tasted the sweetness of her dark skin before his lips pulled back in a snarl, and he sank his fangs into the vein. The dancer yelped, eyes opening to glance down at what Mark was doing. Her heart fluttered and her stomach twisted in knots as she saw that he had bitten completely through her flesh and appeared to be drinking her blood. Her fear kept her mouth shut, however, and she laid her head back, feeling an unexpected wave of euphoria rush over her.

 

After a moment, Mark removed his fangs from her thigh, attempting to catch his breath as he ran his tongue across his bloodstained lips, lapping up stray droplets. He crawled up from her thighs to her face, staring deep into her eyes as he kissed her, his tongue swirling around hers, and she tasted the coppery tang of her own blood. Instead of gagging and pushing him away, she continued to kiss him, a curious passion fueling her as she felt his hardness lining up with her slick entrance.

 

The vampire hesitated as he pulled away from the kiss, staring into her eyes to make sure this was what she wanted. When she said nothing, only staring at his red-and-silver irises in fear and wonder, he took it upon himself to enter her, painfully slowly.

 

“Oh…fuck,” Mark hissed, becoming familiar again with the feeling of intimacy and warmth. Envy’s face was bright and beaming, wanting him to continue.

 

“Fuck me hard,” she growled breathlessly, and Mark commenced what he had come here to do.

 

Anti had been sitting in the corner for a while, in one of the decorative antique-fashioned chairs, observing from a safe distance so that Mark felt comfortable and he could step in if needed. Envy’s gaze caught the god’s while Mark gave her everything he had, her voluptuous breasts bouncing wildly as Mark ducked his head down to grab one of her nipples in his teeth.

 

“You don’t wanna play with us?” Envy moaned, a sly grin covering her face only for a moment. Mark must have been hitting exactly the right spot, because her countenance changed to shock almost immediately after and she struggled to keep her voice down.

 

“I don’t play well with others,” Anti said absentmindedly, glancing off in a separate direction. “I’m here to make sure he doesn’t kill you.”

 

“K--kill me?” Envy questioned nervously, looking down at Mark. He hissed as he bared his fangs again, this time sinking into her left breast harshly. She cried out, the pain overtaking her, but felt the pleasure coursing into her again and she sighed deeply, returning to the moment.

 

Anti stood and walked calmly and slowly to the side of the bed.

 

“Yes, pretty whore,” he growled menacingly, his pace not faltering. “You see him right now?” The god pointed to the vampire whose fangs were still buried in the helpless woman’s breast. Envy glanced down, then looked back to Anti without an answer. “He is operating on a very basic level right now. He’s getting what he _needs_ —your blood—and he’s getting what he _wants_ …” Anti clenched his teeth. “Pussy, for lack of a more elegant term.”

 

“Why does he…need my blood?” Envy asked as though she didn’t already know the answer. Anti sensed this and gave her a cruel, emotionless smile.

 

“You’re a smart little thing, aren’t you?” he asked, removing his glasses again as he stood next to the couple on the bed. A bead of sweat trickled down between Envy’s soft breasts and Mark pulled his teeth from her flesh, lines of blood dripping sloppily from his lips onto the dancer’s skin. She suddenly felt too weak to react in any way as he continued to batter away at her.

 

Anti had to admit that he had never seen Mark like this. Completely oblivious to the conversation around him, the vampire continued to pound into this young woman, his head thrown back in ecstasy, his mouth opened slightly as he moaned softly, the tips of his fangs visible beneath his upper lip. It was almost scary, if he didn’t already _know_ what Mark was capable of.

 

Mark regained control of himself for only a brief moment, staring into Envy’s eyes as he slowed his pace. His hand caressed the side of her jaw, his index finger trailing down to lift her chin upwards and to his left. He grinned savagely, fangs glistening with blood, as he licked his lips while he stared at her rapidly-thumping jugular.

 

“Are you close?” he managed to groan out mechanically. Envy’s eyes were filled with remorse as she stared only at Anti, who gave her nothing but a cold glare. Mark’s eyes were focused only on her throat as he waited for her response.

 

“Do it,” Envy told her lover, still staring at the imposter Jack. Anti’s eyes closed as he sucked in a slow, methodical breath.

 

The Korean vampire didn’t hesitate as he struck, his fangs bypassing her soft flesh easily as her blood poured heavily into his mouth. He felt himself becoming closer to orgasm as he drank hungrily from her.

 

Envy’s dark eyes turned toward the ceiling, her extremities beginning to lose feeling as her whole body tingled. There was a ringing in her ears and swimming in her head that was similar to vertigo. Anti allowed this to go on for what felt like an eternity, and Envy was prepared to let this night be her last.

 

After only a couple of moments, Anti grabbed Mark by his hair with sharp claws, pulling harshly to release him from the woman’s neck. The vampire shrieked, a slick stream of blood pouring from his mouth and drowning Envy’s skin, as he struggled violently in Anti’s grip. The vampire dislodged himself from the dancer as Anti grabbed his throat, throwing him completely across the room and into the opposite wall. Mark collapsed, grabbing fistfuls of the tacky carpet in his hands as he took in slow, calculated breaths. Envy was too weak to sit up, and her vision was making her see double, but she didn’t want to believe anything that was happening.

 

Mark shook his head as he sat up, staring at Envy from across the room. His glare softened as he slowly realized what he had done.

 

Anti climbed onto Envy, very similar to the way that Mark had been just moments before, and grabbed her head in his hands. His dark eyes stared into her soul as he pressed his forehead to hers, stroking her cheek softly while mumbling something that Mark could barely make out. Envy smiled as she nodded, rolling over to rest her head on a pillow, and within seconds she drifted off to sleep. Anti moved off of her, making a point to cover her with the bloodied sheets that had been kicked out of the way. He stumbled slightly, holding his head with both hands as he inhaled deeply to steady himself. The god picked up Jack’s glasses from the bedside table, cleaned the lenses as if nothing had just happened, and put them back on.

 

Mark stood cautiously as he held his breath, staring intently at the Latina who lay sleeping peacefully in the bed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, gazing in disgust at the blood on his pallid skin. Hurriedly, he went to grab his clothes that were in a neat pile on the floor.

 

“She’s not going to die,” Anti promised softly, a weakness in his voice that Mark took note of immediately. His eyes had returned to Jack’s normal blue. “She’s fine. Just weak. She’ll sleep it off and she won’t remember anything.”

 

“That felt too close,” Mark huffed, shaking his head as he pulled on his pants and sat on the side of the bed to get his socks on. “That was…that was scary. I didn’t like who I was. I don’t even…I don’t even _know_ that person anymore.”

 

“Isn’t it time to revisit the _old_ Marquinhos?” The god purred, sitting beside his friend on the bed but being careful not to wake the sleeping Envy.

 

“No, it really isn’t.” The vampire searched around the underside of the bed for his shoes, finding them and donning them hastily.

 

“Look,” Anti began, following Mark around. He picked up the vampire’s shirt, wadded up in a ball, and handed it to him. Mark took it thanklessly and pulled it on, attempting to comb through his hair with his fingers. “It’s going to get easier. I promised you I’d help you. You are already well on your way to regaining your original strength. Look at me.” The deity inside Jack’s body grabbed Mark’s chin, forcing the unwilling Korean to stare into his eyes. “You’re gonna be fine. It’s gonna work. Please just trust me.”

 

Mark felt slightly less shitty about what he had done. Glancing over at the woman who was resting off an exhausting night, he realized that sleep would be a temporary cure for how he was feeling at the moment. He took out a few hundred dollars from his wallet and sat it gingerly on the bedside table, turning back to Anti and grinning softly.

 

Suddenly, Anti coughed a spurt of blood that sprayed Mark’s face with a soft red mist. He stumbled again, nearly hitting the floor as he groaned in pain. Mark managed to catch him, cradling him in his arms.

 

“I’m…” the god choked out, gasping shallowly. “ _Blood_. I need blood. I’m too weak.”

 

Mark nodded, racing out the door and back into the club which was closing down for the night. He kept his head down as he passed Ginger and Pumpkin, and the two didn’t notice anything amiss. As if they hadn’t met them earlier at all.

 

The vampire drove Jack’s car, which had all the wrong seat and mirror settings, back to Jack’s apartment. He fumbled with the keys in the dim interior light of the vehicle to find the house key before jumping out, grabbing Anti out of the passenger’s side, and carrying him awkwardly into the house.

 

Anti was plopped heavily into a chair in the kitchen while Mark scrambled to the refrigerator to pull out the last remaining blood bag. He palmed it for a moment before popping it into the microwave, not believing he was actually allowing this to happen.

 

A warm, steaming mug was placed in front of a slouched Anti, who perked up upon smelling the scent of the blood in front of him. With shaking hands, he reached gingerly downward to pick up the mug, being careful not to spill it, and put it to his lips. He grimaced and made a pained sound as the blood coursed down his throat, burning hot in his human flesh. He sat the mug down again to give it a moment to cool.

 

Mark had a seat at the opposite end of the table, a double shot of whisky in a small glass with a couple of ice cubes. He swirled the drink around while he watched Anti, making sure everything was okay.

 

“Jack can’t come back with me like this,” Anti managed to croak out after a while, taking another deep sip of his sustenance. “It’s already probably going to take him a day or so to recuperate. Tonight…took a lot out of me.”

 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Mark scoffed, agreeing for once. He stared into the rich, golden color of his whisky before taking another refreshing drink. “Thanks for…not letting me kill her.”

 

Anti sat the mug down after yet another drink, his lips dark red and his teeth coated slick with crimson. “I told you I’d watch you.”

 

“It was admittedly a little weird,” Mark laughed, “having you in the room with me, while I…”

 

The god snorted. “I guess I could’ve left you both alone.”

 

Mark knew that would have been the wrong answer. The two sat in silence for another long while, both sipping on their drinks.

 

“This body is weak,” Anti growled. Mark made a face as he looked up at him. “Humans…are weak. That’s why I lost myself tonight.”

 

The vampire nodded, soaking in his words. “I’m sorry. I felt pretty weak in my own body tonight.”

 

Anti held his mug outward toward Mark in a toast. “To weakness, then.”

 

Mark had to chuckle at that one as he copied Anti’s gesture. “To weakness.”

 

Their glasses clinked together cheerily, echoing throughout the room in a way that made everything feel not so dark.


	17. Curiosity Killed the Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Something's wrong when you regret  
> Things that haven't happened yet  
> It's a glorious day when morning comes  
> Without that feeling of alarm  
> So rise, and shine  
> Now's the time to be alive  
> To stay awake with me a while  
> And smile."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey peepos, I tried SO HARD to get this chappie out before/by Halloween but life got in the way yadda yadda. It's more backstory and explanation so if it's not your jive I totally understand. Hope you enjoy regardless!
> 
> A L S O I know like nobody reads these headers much anymore but I got to see the band that inspired this fic live a couple weeks ago AND I MET THEM and I was right up front for the show and I stole their set list and they signed my vinyl it was honestly so fucking awesome I'm still hella not over it~ ok bye enjoy fic lol

A warm, amber glow illuminated the face of Lucien, whose head was bowed over the _The Prophecy_ , pages yellowed with age and musty in scent. The fireplace, the only current light in the room, was a nice touch in the old farmhouse, Jack noted, as he glanced outside, thankful to be out of the October chill. Amelia entered the room quietly, carrying a mug of hot black tea to Jack, who accepted it graciously. The human shivered beneath his blanket, hair still damp from the bath water, while he took slow, steady sips of the tea from the mug.

 

“We’re so sorry about the temperature in here, dear,” Amelia said, having a seat next to him on the couch. “I hope you were able to enjoy your bath.”

 

“Of course,” Jack said meekly. “Thank you.”

 

Mark, from a chair opposite his family and friend on the couch, brought one foot up to rest under his left thigh. “Yeah, at least the fire’s nice, though.”

 

“And dinner was fantastic,” the human added, remembering his manners. “Do Gianna and Ingram need any help with the dishes?”

 

“They’ll be fine, love,” Amelia responded with a smile that felt like it could warm the room tenfold. “I’m sure they appreciate your concern.”

 

“Tell us a spooky story, Father,” Mark joked, smirking at Jack on the couch. Lucien chuckled once, shaking his head slowly, but not looking away from the book. “Come on, it’s almost Halloween!”

 

“Halloween is child’s play,” Lucien responded dryly, brushing Mark’s jokes away with a wave of his hand. “A human’s holiday now used to mock and belittle the creatures of the dark.”

 

The Korean vampire rolled his eyes. “You suck the fun out of _everything_.”

 

“Dear,” Amelia began, “why don’t you tell them a story? Let them have their fun. Jack is still human, after all. I’m sure Halloween is at least somewhat relevant to him?” The dark-skinned woman’s eyes fell on Jack, but he did not meet her gaze, instead staring into the flames.

 

“I love Halloween,” Jack said shamelessly.

 

Lucien looked up them, smiling over at Jack, the corners of his bright eyes crinkling playfully. “Very well,” he mused, flipping back toward the beginning of the ancient text. “Is there anything about vampires in particular that you want to know, Jack? I can’t say that my level of expertise extends far beyond our kind.”

 

The Irishman thought, sipping carefully on the hot tea, as a million questions raced through his head. Instead of getting too technical, he chose the simplest one.

 

“How did vampires even come about?” he asked, looking both at Lucien and Amelia on either side of him. “I mean…we always thought they were just stories.”

 

“The Ancients were the original vampires,” Lucien told him. “A small group of them, I think perhaps five or so. Before the dawn of civilization, the Ancients were once human, but were cursed by mages as a punishment for mutiny. The small group of them had attempted to overthrow the power dynamic in their village, and had murdered the leader and some others, but was caught with bloodstains still on their hands. The sentinels then murdered their families in front of them and the mages forced them to live as immortals. It was allegedly as a means to make them live eternally with the regret of what they had done, and the image of their loves ones dying burned forever in their brains. Their immortality was coveted, but it came with a price. In order to sustain themselves, they needed to drink the blood of the living, otherwise they would quite literally dry out, not ceasing to exist, but going through a slow and painful eternity of being on the brink of death but never reaching it. They were never _told_ that blood was the answer to their gnawing hunger. It wasn't until one of them discovered by mistake that blood sated their thirst, after having tried almost everything to quench it. Animal blood did nothing, it was like living on junk food...so they attempted with humans. In order to steal blood from their victims, they would sneak into their homes at night, draining them of their life force by slicing their jugulars open with a sharp tool.”

 

“Is that why we think of vampires as creatures o’ the night, then?” Jack piped up, curiosity fueling him.

 

“Yes,” Lucien said, nodding, “no burning in the sun required. It was just part of a story to make children feel safe during the day and come inside at night by their parents’ bidding.”

 

“Children were _never_ safe,” Mark joked menacingly. Jack gulped and glanced to Lucien, begging with his eyes for the vampire to go on. Gianna and Ingram sneaked into the room without Jack ever noticing. They both had a seat on the floor near the fireplace, warming their wrinkled hands after finishing the dishes. Lucien continued unfazed.

 

“Eventually, the Ancients themselves grew fangs, very much akin to the ideals of Darwinian evolution, as a means of obtaining their source of food much more easily. The fangs would only become visible when it was time to feed or fight. As time went on, the very nature of each Ancient One determined their vampiric eye color—red for the Feral race, and silver for the Alkali race. Ferals, of course, are the more animalistic of the two, typically more stubborn and impulsive, taking what they will without worry. Alkali are softer in heart, more compassionate and level-headed.”

 

Each vampire and human in the room watched Lucien with great intent, all ears focused on his story, even though the other vampires had probably heard it a thousand times. Jack had noticed a long pause in the tale and needed to rein him back to his original question.

 

“So, that tells me how the _Ancients_ came about,” Jack prodded, “but…what about other vampires?”

 

“Ah,” Lucien sighed, closing his eyes. “Humans are so impatient. Must be their limited time constraint on this planet. We don’t really have that issue.”

 

“Literally sittin’ _right_ here,” Jack reminded him playfully, but with a hint of sass that told Lucien it was time to get on with the story.

 

“Well, I’ll answer your question with another question,” the older vampire proposed. “Why did humans come about?”

 

A puzzled expression crossed Jack’s face as he contemplated it. “Er…I don’t...I guess I hadn't thought about it.”

 

“Because there was allegedly a God who grew bored of having created an Earth with nothing on it. So the lore goes. The God created man, and from man came woman, and so on. The Ancients, like the Hebrew-Christian God, were bored. They wanted to see if it were possible to create a being like them from their own bloodlines. Eventually, they did. It took a lot of trial and error, but after consorting with sorceresses and blood mages and the like, they discovered a ritual to create the vampire that we know today. The ritual, of course, consisted of feeding on the human to the point of dying, and then forcing the human to drink the vampire’s blood to trigger the transformation. This vampire was the first created from the Ancient bloodline…Cyrus Morelock. My father.”

 

“The fuck?!” Jack exclaimed. “Wait. Your _father_ was the first vampire created from the Ancients?”

 

“Indeed,” Lucien answered. “The surname ‘Morelock’ comes from my grandfather, then. The original founding member of the Ancient Order. Malachi.”

 

“This is too much,” Jack sighed, holding his temples in his hands.

 

“There were some kinks in the creation process after all,” the father vampire continued. “It wasn’t perfect. Once the vampire was reborn, it did not remember its past life as a human. It knew the basics—its native tongue, general motor functions, how to operate as a human at whatever age it died—but nothing more. Many believe that’s because at the time of death, you see your life flash before your eyes. At least, that’s how the myth goes. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. Technically, your human self has died, and with your soul went your memory. Nobody really knows for sure why it happens this way. The Ancients devised a plan with the help of the mages of the time, which is the backbone of _The Prophecy_. In order to create the least amount of chaos, the Ancients and the mages looked forward into the future and hand-picked their protégées—each human who would eventually become a vampire—and thus defined a sire for them. The eventual vampires were seemingly randomly chosen…no one really knows to this day why we were picked. Of course, some order was needed as well. Ferals and Alkali had to live in balance with each other, and so the Ancients made sure there was an equal amount of Feral and Alkali blood all the way down the line. Like a checks and balances system.”

 

“This is _insane_ ,” Jack said, stifling a chuckle. Gianna laughed out loud for him, covering her mouth with her hand.

 

“Sorry,” she whispered faintly.

 

“I suppose it does sound rather crazy,” Amelia noted, peering into the flames. “To vampires, this is all we’ve ever known. It’s our one ultimate truth. _The Prophecy_ gives us meaning.”

 

Jack couldn’t help but note the obvious parallels to religious fanatics being obsessed with their holy book, following rules blindly without question, because it was “the way it had always been.” He then realized that this would one day be his own reality. Shaking the thought from his head, he finished his tea and sat the mug down on the coffee table in front of him.

 

“And…half-breeds?” Jack questioned, glancing quickly toward Mark’s direction and then back at Lucien.

 

“Mark was created because Amelia and I both sired him,” he told him.

 

“Right, but…” The Irishman swallowed before continuing. “Is he the only one?”

 

“He’s not the only one _ever_ ,” Ingram piped up. “Father was one. Before he turned me.”

 

Mark shot a surprised look at the older vampire. “You were a half-breed?!”

 

Lucien held his hands up to signal calm. “Yes, I was. I was created a half-breed by your grandfather and grandmother Morelock. Cyrus and Octavia.”

 

“How come you never told me?” Mark asked, a sense of hurt in his voice. “I always just assumed I was a freak.”

 

“You _are_ ,” Ingram groaned, rolling his eyes. Gianna slashed her sharp nails across his cheek hard, enough to bring blood to the skin.

 

“Shut up, dumbass,” she growled, tossing her hair off her shoulder. “Mark, you’re not a freak.”

 

“Thanks, Gi.”

 

“If you make me get blood on my new keffiyeh, I swear to _God_ —“ Ingram’s fury was cut off as Lucian slammed his fist on the book.

 

“That’s enough, children!” Lucien’s rage was none to be trifled with, and everyone grew very still and quiet. Ingram wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand and licked it clean, readjusting his headwear to let his fresh wound breathe. Jack’s eyes were huge as saucers as he cowered accidentally closer to Amelia, who shook her head and held her forehead in frustration. 

 

“So…” Mark continued, fixated on this new information. “You became Feral because…Ingram is Feral? Or he was _going_ to be Feral according to the Prophecy?”

 

“That’s how it works,” the Latin American vampire responded. “I don’t make the rules.”

 

“So…whatever kind of vampire _Jack_ is going to become is…”

 

“Is what you will be as well,” his father finished for him. “No more hybrid.”

 

Mark gazed longingly at Jack, half-curious and half-concerned. The human stared back, equally nervous about the future.

 

“So we just get stuck with it, then,” the brunet Irishmen surmised. “It doesn't matter what kind of person you were as a human? You're a Feral or an Alkali because...that's how the Ancients wrote it?”

 

Lucien's face was grave. “Unfortunately, yes. Correct, Jack.”

 

The human was quiet while Lucien focused back on the book, clearing his throat.

 

“Anyway,” the older vampire changed the subject. “On down the line, the purpose of vampires changed. Instead of simply being playthings for the Ancients’ amusements, certain powerful human rulers found out about them and approached the Ancients in secret. They wished to use the vampiric body in combat, fighting battles for them in war. Since vampires couldn’t be killed by any human weapon, it seemed a perfect match. The vampires would feed on the wasted soldiers on the battlefield and return the next day to fight as the unstoppable killing machines that they were. It was a win-win in every situation. And after the fighting, when the wars were won, the vampires and humans parted ways. Our kind would usually pack up and leave, fleeing to a new country or state or province. And the humans would grow old and die, and nobody ever believed them when they said that their ultimate weapon was an immortal creature of darkness.

 

“Now it almost feels like…we are free.” Lucien took a deep breath, tossing a small wad of rolled-up paper into the fireplace. The flames erupted around it, sparks engulfing the parchment. “We don’t have to fight wars anymore. We can live together, in the nuclear family design that the Ancients dearly cared about for some reason. We get to have lives. All we must do is keep our secret from humankind as much as is feasibly possible.”

 

“You say this with a human sitting in our home,” Ingram noted, staring hungrily at Jack. Jack’s heartbeat sped up and he dropped his eyes to the floor, embarrassed because he knew everyone in the room could hear it as well.

 

“Ingram,” Amelia sighed deeply. “Yes. Jack is human, but he _will_ be one of us very soon.” Her eyes darted to Mark. “Isn’t that right, Mark?”

 

“Yeah!” Mark answered far too quickly. “Of course. _Very_ soon.”

 

“Hmm…” Ingram hummed, fiddling with his healing wound absentmindedly.

 

“Why did the Ancients pick a nuclear family model?” Jack asked, hoping to take everyone’s mind off of the glaringly-obvious fact that he was the only living creature in the room. “Like, what if…what if you were…not straight?”

 

Lucien’s eyebrows knitted together. “You’re referring to…homosexuals?”

 

“Yeah,” the Irishman said. “Like, if you were gay in your human life. Do the Ancients have a family model for that?”

 

The older vampire stroked the scruff on his chin in thought. “Well…I suppose I hadn’t thought of that. Looks like my privilege is speaking up, there.”

 

“So, they basically forced people into living this heteronormative reality, regardless o’ their orientation?” Jack questioned incredulously. “And they make you become Feral, even if you were, like, a fuckin' _saint_ in your human life?”

 

“Jack—“ Mark started to explain before Jack cut him off.

 

“That’s kinda awful, honestly. Why would anyone want to be a part o’ somethin’ like that?”

 

“Because we don’t have a choice.” Amelia’s voice was stern and low, almost ominous in the dim light. A lilt of despair poisoned her tone and put the room into silence again, the crackling of the wood in the fire the only sound to be heard.

 

“We had _everything_ taken away from us,” Ingram chimed in, hugging his knees close to his chest. “Our lives, our homes, our families…our memories. Not all of us get to have those memories back, you know. Don’t worry—you can fuck whoever you want when you’re a vampire. No one really cares. That’s not what’s important. We lost our entire perception of reality.” He grew quiet for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip. “But I can’t expect a mortal to understand that. You won’t understand. Not until you’re turned, and not until you realize the price you’ve been forced to pay.”

 

More silence. Mark cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in the old sitting chair, while Lucien flipped through some more pages in the huge tome. Amelia fiddled with her colorful wooden bracelets and Gianna attempted a fishtail braid on one side of her wavy locks.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jack offered once a few minutes had passed. “I didn’t…I wasn’t thinking. My bad, guys.”

 

“Oh, love,” the vampire mother gushed in her posh British accent, pulling him into a cold embrace. “Everything is fine. We’re happy you’re with us now and in the future.”

 

Jack and Gianna were outside in the frigid chill of the night, getting some fresh air as Lucien and Amelia made their way to bed. The human was huddled on the porch swing beneath a blanket, looking out over the dead farmland, while Gianna kicked her legs playfully beside him in just her skinny jeans and sweater.

 

“Sorry for causing all kinds o’ trouble for you an’ your family,” Jack said quietly. He had hoped their conversation could be secret, with no ears on them whatsoever, but he knew that wasn’t the case. Surely someone in the house was listening.

 

“You aren’t,” the perpetual teenager assured him, flashing a cheerful smile. “Mark will turn you when you’re ready. There’s nothing really wrong with that.” She tapped her nails on the arm rest of the swing. “I mean, the Ancients are pissed, but…who cares?”

 

“I think your entire family cares.”

 

Gianna scoffed. “Buncha’ old, crusty vamps think they can just sit around and make _all_ the rules. It sucks dick, to be honest.”

 

“Is that language appropriate for someone your age, young lass?” Jack asked jokingly.

 

The brunette girl laughed melodically. “I’m way older than you, dude. Just turned a hundred and ten this year.”

 

Jack sucked in a quick breath of wintry air, almost choking on the coldness. “Hundred an’ ten, huh?” He swung them slowly with one foot, the ancient chains creaking monotonously. “That’s…somethin.’”

 

“I know it freaks you out to talk about how old we are,” she replied meekly. “Or about how we obtain food. Or…much else about us. Really, you’re kind of a pussy, Jack.” She cackled at her own joke once he had a laugh about it, and he felt his inhibitions disappearing at the sound of her gentle voice.

 

“I know,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders.

 

“Ingram is sad,” the young immortal told him. “He tries to forget that he can never get his memories back.”

 

“I guess that was my fault.”

 

“No, not your fault.” Gianna reached a pale hand toward Jack’s shoulder to comfort him, but opted to let it fall slowly to the seat between them. “It wasn’t your fault. I think he’ll just always hurt. It’s understandable. He lost a lot, and he wasn’t assigned a partner or a family of his own. At least Dad can tell him stories about his life and stuff.”

 

“And you?” Jack dared to ask. “You were turned when you were fifteen. You were just a child. How is that fair?”

 

Gianna shook her head slowly, staring off at nothing. “Fairness is a human-idealized construct. You'll get over that when you're dead.” The words felt off-putting coming from her mouth, as if they weren't her words at all. Her tone shifted as her voice fell into a lower register. “My circumstance was a special one. I was in an accident and Amelia got permission to turn me. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.” She paused briefly, inhaling the scent of the coming winter, the earth, and Jack. “I don’t get a partner, either. Or a protégée. I’m trapped.” 

 

Jack was rendered speechless, unsure of how to make the situation any less awkward. The two chose to sit quietly. Off in the distance, a barn owl sang a solemn tune. The stars that could be seen through the thin veil of clouds twinkled to challenge the brightness of the moon. A soft breeze blew strands of Gianna’s hair away from her face as she gazed over at the human man. She watched his jugular vein as it thumped gently just beneath the surface of his skin, and was frightened at how hungry she suddenly felt. He dared a glance out of the corner of his eye, the uncomfortable feeling of being watched settling in. The small-framed girl inched ever closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body heat on her cold skin.

 

“Jack…?” Gianna started, but was cut off by Mark coming out the back door.

 

“Oh, hi Mark!” Jack mimicked the infamous line poorly delivered by Tommy Wiseau as he got to his feet, the blanket wrapping tighter around him. Gianna stayed put, smiling innocently.

 

“Hey! Er, Gianna,” the Korean-German vampire said, “little sister. Could you give Jack and I a moment?”

 

She exhaled quickly, slapped her knees with her hands and stood gracefully. “Sure thing. I’m headed to bed anyways.”  Almost shamefully, she looked down at her bare feet as she tiptoed to the door, opening it as quietly as she could so as not to disturb her parents. She gave one final look toward the pair before disappearing inside.

 

“’Night!” she whispered. Jack offered a small wave from beneath the blanket and Mark nodded once.

 

“Why were you out here?” Mark questioned, his smile askew. “It’s a little chilly.”

 

Jack, suddenly noticing the cold, shivered theatrically and nodded. “Yeah, we should get back inside—“

 

As he tried to make his way past his friend, Mark stopped him, glancing once over his shoulder before lowering his voice to a hushed whisper.

 

“I was coming to ask if…you’d like to go to town with me.”

 

The Irishman’s eyebrows narrowed, staring into Mark’s chocolate eyes to see if there was any way this could be a joke.

 

“I think we should just rest for the night,” he told him, suspicion clouding his voice.

 

“I thought you might say that.” Mark’s grin turned devious. “It’s almost Halloween. I’m sure there’ll be a couple of festivities to get into.”

 

A slow understanding of Mark’s intentions washed over Jack and he felt like he may be ill.

 

“You’re not asking _me_ , are you?” The human’s question sounded more like a statement of fact as his face paled.

 

“Look,” the vampire said, “I understand if you don’t think Anti should come out. But I think he can control himself now. And my family is going to bed. I already told Father we may take one of the cars out tonight and he said it was fine.”

 

Jack’s silence told Mark all he needed to know. He was going to have to sell his point harder.

 

“I’d absolutely love for just the two of us to go out and do something like this,” Mark told him. “But I still don’t think I’m ready to take the reins on it yet. Anti has really been helping me a ton.”

 

“Why don’t you and I go, and then when you get ready to feed, I’ll have Anti pop in?” Jack offered. His friend pondered the idea, a grimace spreading across his face.

 

“I dunno…”

 

“You really don’t think I’d keep my word?” The younger man crossed his arms beneath the blanket. “You _really_ think if Anti wanted out that I could keep him contained? Come on.”

 

_“It is true, Marquinhos…”_

A calculated nod from the vampire let Jack know that the plan was set into motion.

 

There was quite a bit of chaos happening in the central part of town, a very sparsely-populated community of mostly young high school kids and college dropouts. Cobblestone streets that traced lines through the town were filled with drunken adults and minors alike, donned in costumes that weren’t all appropriate for public but no one was going to stop them now. Loud, bass-filled music rocked small business windows and everyone was shouting to be heard.

 

“I feel…” Jack began, glancing around, “I feel like…we’re too old for this.”

 

“No kidding?” Mark scoffed. “At least you’re not in your two-hundreds.”

 

“Let’s just find someone and get the fuck out o’ here.” The human shuddered beneath his heavy coat, pulling his beanie down further onto his head.

 

“That takes all the fun out of it,” Mark whined.

 

“Well, we can narrow it down right now—no high school kids. Obviously.”

 

The vampire rolled his eyes. “You think that little of me? That I would scar an innocent child?”

 

The human watched a train of young girls wearing barely anything parade in front of him, babbling incoherently about “the dick” they were getting later that night. “No one here is innocent,” he decided aloud.

 

“Then my choices are wide open.”

 

“Jesus, Mark,” Jack shook his head in disdain. “You gotta be fuckin’ with me right now.”

 

“Jack.” The Korean turned to his friend, placing reassuring hands on his shoulders. “I’m not gonna eat a goddamned high school _kid,_ alright? Promise.” Jack wasn’t convinced as Mark looked in all directions surrounding them. “I am starving, though. So we’ll need to find someone soon, unless you want to volunteer as tribute. I could use another memory jog, anyway.”

 

The human rolled his eyes. “You’re all talk. But fine. Let’s head toward the bar set up over there.”

 

After chatting with a few of the young ladies and gents at the outdoor bar, Mark had picked his poison—a delicate, mysterious college-aged girl dressed as a vampire. He led her away from the shenanigans, Jack following not far behind, with the promise of “something she might find exciting.”

 

“So, what is it?” she asked, her back to a brick wall as she stared him up and down. “You gonna show me somethin’?” She drunkenly trailed a hand down his breastbone. “You look like the kinda guy who’s secretly…big. Even though you’re pretty fuckin’ short.”

 

Mark’s face went stone cold as he stared into her eyes, trying to ignore her commentary on his height, an already sensitive subject. Jack snickered under his breath as he waited patiently just around the corner of the wall.

 

The vampire grabbed both sides of her face in his cold hands and brought his nose dangerously close to hers. “You think vampires are cool, right?”

 

The girl snorted. “I’m dressed as one, aren’t I? What kinda question is that?” She began pawing clumsily at his belt, trying to be sneaky but failing. She ran her tongue across her set of realistic-looking vampire fangs and stared up at him through dark eyelashes. “And what are _you_ supposed to be?”

 

Mark’s eyes changed to their atypical colors then, and his fangs felt sharp against the inside of his lip. The girl blinked rapidly, believing that the transition was a symptom of her inebriation.

 

“We’re dressed as the same thing,” the vampire cooed, leaning in to inhale the scent of her neck.

 

“W—wait,” the girl stammered, pushing Mark away from her. “You're...you're actually a real vampire?”

 

“Yes, sweetling," Mark purred, pushing her head to one side gently to reveal her throat. "And I'm very hungry, so if you wouldn't mind—“

 

“No!” She cried, backing even further against the side of the building. “No, please...please don't...don't eat me, please, I'm scared.” 

 

Ignoring her begging, he moved her head to the side once more and opened his mouth slowly, starting to place the sharp fangs on the jugular, when a familiar voice broke his concentration.

 

“Brother!” Ingram called, coming around the corner with Jack in tow by his elbow. Jack struggled and Ingram released him, and the human shot a hard glare at the intruding immortal. “Having a midnight snack without me, then? And poor Jack…forced to wait in the corner. Like a scared child.” Ingram's eyes turned red and his fangs jutted out from his upper lip at the scent of the young girl that Mark had captured.

 

“Ingram, I…” Mark stuttered, unsure of how to continue. The girl’s breathing and heart rate had increased and she was attempting to sneak away when Mark grabbed her shoulders and thrust her into the hard brick. She cried out as her skull cracked the wall, seeing spots and circles in her vision.

 

“Pl—please…” she whimpered, her voice breaking into absolute sobs by the end of her tirade. “Please don’t kill me. I’m…I had no idea vampires were real. I’ll go away now, I swear. I won't tell _anyone_! Please, just fucking let me go, _please_ —“

 

“ _Stop_ your incessant whining,” Mark groaned, turning to leer at her. “You’re not going anywhere.” The raven-haired girl choked back tears as she attempted to calm herself with slow, deep breaths.

 

Ingram stared in surprise at the younger vampire. “Marquinhos, this is an interesting character development.” The Saudi Arabian then looked at Jack. “And what part have you to play in all of this? Surely you weren’t just camping out to get a taste yourself.”

 

Jack was disturbingly silent as he stared into Ingram’s blood red eyes, not faltering in his stance, challenging the older vampire. Ingram didn’t like the look of it. Instead, he faced Mark and the meal he was about to have.

 

“We could share, brother.” Ingram’s words were laced with venom and promise as he stalked closer to them. “Like old times. Remember?”

 

Mark nodded, mischief glinting in his eyes. “I remember.”

 

Ingram reached out a frigid hand to brush a mascara-stained tear from the girl’s cheek, and she shivered at his touch, not daring to look him in the eye.

 

“ _Hush_ , young one,” the older vampire hissed almost sensually. “You like vampires, don’t you? You are dressed as one.”

 

She didn’t answer. Jack remained aloof behind them, cracking his knuckles nonchalantly, and Mark came to the realization that Jack was no longer here in the moment.

 

Turning once more to face Jack, Ingram gave him a subtle wink. “Curiosity killed the cat. You probably won't like what you're about to see.”

 

A deadly smile from Jack made even the Feral vampire feel uneasy.

 

“Don’t stop on my account,” taunted the Irishman. He bowed his head slightly and held his open palms out toward the girl as if to show her off like some kind of trophy. “Please. Continue.”

 

With a casual shrug and a crooked smile, Ingram turned back to look his brother in the eye. The hunger in Mark's gaze was troubling to him, but exciting nonetheless. Ingram’s fangs glinted in the dim street light as he leaned forward on the left side of the girl’s neck, and Mark took the hint to go for the right side. Before sinking his fangs through the flesh, Mark stopped, bringing one hand up to cover the frightened woman’s mouth, and the two vampires simultaneously sank their fangs in deep.

 

The music just down the street drowned out her muffled cries as they drank from her. Mark moaned low in his throat, the scalding sensation of the blood burning him up from the inside, juxtaposed to the taste of winter in the air. The Saudi vampire’s claws were stuck into the girl’s hips, holding her in place so that she wouldn’t run. Anti sensed that her blood supply was getting low—but he wasn’t sure what to do about Ingram.

 

The girl in the vampire costume was beginning to lose consciousness when “Jack” walked over and grabbed a fistful of Mark’s hair, pulling firmly to loosen the vampire’s vice grip. He withdrew his fangs from her neck and gulped loudly, his breathing shallow as he went back in to lick up the sustenance seeping from her wound. Blood coated his teeth and dribbled from his lips as he pulled away, using his thumb to wipe off the excess trail and then sucking it clean hungrily. Anti gave him a worried glare as Ingram continued to drink.

 

Mark smacked his brother lightly on the shoulder and the older vampire came up for air, grinning viciously with a crimson smile at the two other men beside him.

 

“Ah,” Ingram noted, “not going to feed until there's no more, brother? How uncharacteristic of your past self.”

 

“That's not how I care to do it anymore,” Mark told him with a shrug. “Let's get out of here. Leave her.”

 

“And yet,” the Saudi began, “I'm still hungry. There's still blood in her veins. It almost seems like the ends justify the means.” His gaze was intense, fear-inducing, while he clutched the barely-conscious girl against the wall. An ominous tone colored his voice. “And you _know_ how cranky I get when I’m hungry.”

 

“I think the best thing to do,” Mark growled, grabbing Ingram’s shoulder, “is to let her go. Leave it be. We don’t need to dig a grave tonight.”

 

“Who said anything about digging a grave?” Ingram chuckled at Mark’s confusion. “It’s Halloween. She could just be a decoration.”

 

“Okay,” Anti sighed, exasperated with the conversation. “Enough of this. Ingram…” His eyes were the abyss of black again as he glared at the older vampire. Ingram took a surprised step back in defense, but Anti was too quick and grabbed him, placing his spindly claws around the vampire’s head to pull him closer. “… _forget about the girl_. Forget about seeing me like this. It’s time to go home.”

 

In an instant, Ingram was shaking the fuzziness out of his head, blinking rapidly as he stared at Mark. Anti had eliminated his physical features to replace them with his human host’s, gazing innocently at the older vampire.

 

“It’s…it’s actually getting late,” Ingram admitted, but seemed confused by the very words coming out of his mouth. “I think I’m…going to go…back home.” The sentence was a struggle to get out, and Ingram appeared to be fighting himself as he stalked back to his vehicle.

 

Anti kneeled down to the young girl, extremely woozy with dried mascara tracks on her cheeks. She sniffled when he approached her, holding her cheek in his hand and tracing the shape of her lips with his thumb.

 

“There, there, little bird,” the god cooed warmly. “Don't cry. I’ll fix you right up.”

 

Mark watched as Anti sealed the puncture wounds on her throat as best as he could, eliminating any trace of the evening’s memory. The immortal was in disbelief at how gentle the god was, almost as if he cared for this insignificant human life.

 

“You can hypnotize vampires?” Mark questioned as they made their way through the dwindling Halloween crowd toward the vehicle.

 

Anti shrugged. “I had never tried that before. It seemed to work. Mostly. There may be some remnants of the night in his head, but if nothing prompts him to recall it, we should be okay.”

 

“I won’t mention it, then.”

 

“That would be a wise choice.”

 

“...Have you ever hypnotized me?” Mark was only half-kidding.

 

Anti smirked. “Now, why would I do something like that to you?” The vampire mulled over his words in silence all the way back to the parking lot.

 

Anti waited until they were in the car to let Jack return to his body. The human gasped loudly, holding his pounding head with one hand and squeezing his eyes shut.

 

“You good?” Mark asked him once he had collected himself.

 

“Ugh…” Jack swallowed hard, forcing himself not to be sick in the vampire family’s car. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

 

“Alright, let’s get you home.” The Korean vampire cranked the heat in the car to warm his chilled human friend as he backed out of his parking spot near the public school. “Should probably get some blood in your system. Just in case.”

 

“That sounds…” Jack pondered the thought, closing his eyes and laying his throbbing head on the window, a faint smile painted on his lips. He almost felt Anti at the forefront of his brain, urging him on with a childish giggle. “That sounds delightful.”


	18. Snowglobe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And I'll use you as a warning sign  
> That if you talk enough sense, then you'll lose your mind  
> And I'll use you as focal point  
> So I don’t lose sight of what I want  
> And I've moved further than I thought I could  
> But I missed you more than I thought I would  
> And I'll use you as a warning sign  
> That if you talk enough sense, then you'll lose your mind."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!! So within the last few days, we surpassed the 1-year anniversary of the day I uploaded the first chapter of this fic. Unbeknownst to me at the time, I'm still working away like a busy little bee a year later. This is the longest and most dear to my heart project I've worked on in over 10 years and I'm so so so excited to be sharing it with you all. Thank you for being here with me on this wild-ass journey. 
> 
> In this chapter we finally meet some important folks so hang tight 'cause it's a bumpy ride.

Jack had opted out of the Harvest Festival this year.

 

He explained to Mark that it was in favor of flying out to Kansas to spend Thanksgiving with Amber and her family. In reality, it was out of fear that Anti would return and make him do something devious or stupid, causing the vampires to begin questioning Mark. Jack really didn’t feel like answering questions anymore.

 

When Christmas rolled around, Amber’s mother and little brother had decided to fly out to Los Angeles to spend the holiday with Amber and “the dreamy Irish boy.” As luck would have it, Jack’s parents were also making a comeback this year. He worried his apartment would be far too small for the gathering, and so Mark offered his townhouse as a worthy replacement.

 

Mark was setting the table and Jack was helping his mother put the finishing touches on the appetizers when the doorbell rang. The vampire gave a look to his friend and went to the door, preparing his warmest smile to take away from the coldness of his hands.

 

“Mrs. Stewart!” He greeted the woman who was a dead ringer for Amber, if not a couple of decades older. She exhaled sharply upon meeting his handshake.

 

“Cold hands!” she exclaimed, a surprised look in her eye.

 

“I get that a lot,” Mark laughed, motioning for her and the younger boy to come inside. Amber’s dark-haired brother, a boy of about ten years old, stepped through the threshold following his mother, not looking up from his phone game.

 

“Blake, put the damned phone down and be polite,” Mrs. Stewart snapped, her Southern accent sharp. The boy sighed but didn’t oblige. “And please,” she continued to Mark, “call me Katherine. I assume you’re Mark Fischbach?”

 

“Yes, of course,” the Korean faltered, “how rude of me.” He helped her discard her heavy winter coat and scarf onto the coat rack.

 

“It’s warm out here,” Katherine commented. Blake plopped down heavily on the sofa, still absorbed in the game.

 

“Katherine!” Jack called as he walked in from the kitchen. “Glad you made it.” She pulled him into an excited hug and a thrilled laugh.

 

“Glad to see you, Jackie,” she squealed. Mary and Danny both entered then, following their son. All exchanged polite greetings while Mark continued to fiddle with the table settings.

 

“And who is this handsome young man?” Mary asked both Blake and Katherine.

 

“ _This_ is my other child,” Katherine said, rolling her eyes. “ _Blake_. Get off the damned phone! Flappy Birds will still be there after dinner.”

 

“It’s Flappy _Bird_ , mom,” the young boy snapped. “Just one bird.”

 

“Oh, I’ll show you just one bird—“ Katherine was interrupted by Amber coming into the room, a fresh face of makeup on and her hair frozen in place with what seemed to be at least a quart of hairspray. Her blue holiday dress shimmered and hung from her small frame.

 

“Mom!” Amber greeted in a chastising manner. “Blake, come on, be nice.”

 

The boy sighed, putting the phone down beside him on the couch. “Okay, fine. Hi, Sis.” He seemed almost to change personality entirely with Amber in the room, rushing toward her to gently hug her. She held him for a moment, rocking back and forth.

 

Katherine exhaled slowly and calmly, giving apologetic looks to the Irish parents. Jack grinned and Amber met his gaze, offering him a wink and a slight chuckle. Mark was finally finished perfecting the table settings.

 

Mary and Danny took Katherine out for drinks after dinner. Blake had fallen asleep on the couch, phone in hand on his chest. Amber took the opportunity to fiddle around on her laptop by herself, needing her alone time for a while. Jack and Mark sat on Mark’s bed while Jack gazed around in amazement at the memories surrounding him.

 

Mark had documented everything the Irishman’s blood had given him. From rough sketches, to fully-rendered digital drawings, to sloppily-written recollections authored onto parchment that looked hundreds of years old. Photos of things that reminded him of his past. Song lyrics written in Korean.

 

Jack was too stunned to speak, his eyes engulfing the room. He couldn’t believe after all this time that he had never even entered Mark’s bedroom.

 

“It’s a lot,” Mark offered solemnly, leaning back to stretch his legs out a little bit. He swirled his whiskey and the ice cubes clinked against the inside of the glass. “But it’s not everything.” Jack felt his friend’s dark eyes on him, then—or more specifically, on his neck.

 

Jack shifted uncomfortably, scratching idly at the side of his neck in a feeble attempt to hide it from the vampire. “Yeah…” His meek voice was barely audible.

 

“I didn’t wanna talk about this in front of the humans,” Mark began as he stood, walking with purpose to the opposite side of the room, paying no mind to the fact that Jack himself was one of those “humans.” Jack glanced down at his empty glass, not following Mark with his eyes, but with his ears. “I received something…worrisome yesterday.”

 

Jack heard the sound of paper in Mark’s hand as he made his way back to the bed. Jack looked up to see the Korean vampire holding out a blank sheet of what appeared to be papyrus.

 

“What is that?” the human questioned. “There’s nothin’ on it.”

 

Mark turned the sheet back to face him, squinting confusedly.

 

“Ah, right,” he sighed. “It’s only visible to vampires. Unless…” He sat next to his friend, scanning over the ancient document. After a few more moments, he seemed to have an idea.

 

“Give me your hand,” Mark commanded. Hesitantly, Jack reached his hand toward Mark’s open palm, but the vampire bypassed his hand and clamped around his forearm. Before Jack realized what was happening, Mark’s fangs had pierced through Jack’s wrist, opening it to spill a few quick drops of blood onto the papyrus.

 

“ _Shit_!” Jack cried, pulling his bleeding wrist back. In his excitement, the glass fell from his fingers, rolling away under the bed. “What the hell was—“

 

“Shh!” Mark placed a finger to his own lips, giving a warning glare to the Irishman. “Look.”

 

The blood congealed into the middle of the papyrus, and Jack stared in wonder as the crimson snaked its way up and down the page, revealing the message written. Jack placed pressure over his wrist as his eyes moved across the page, trying to decipher the Latin meaning.

 

“I think it says…” the brown-haired human started, tilting his head to one side. “…Roughly somethin’ like…a summons. ‘We are summoned to’…”

 

“Riiser-Larsen,” Mark finished abruptly. “The home of the Ancients.”

 

Jack’s stomach dropped into his knees as a cold, terrible feeling clambered its way up his spine. The life flooded out of his eyes and his face went white.

 

“They know,” Jack decided, shaking his head. “They know about me. That I haven’t been turned yet.”

 

Mark was silent as Jack worked through his emotions.

 

“They want us to come there. They’re gonna kill us. They’re gonna kill us both, Mark, we can’t go!”

 

The dark-haired vampire held up a hand to silence him, pointing with his whiskey glass toward the living room where Amber was.

 

“She can’t know about this,” Mark told him. “I have no idea what they’re planning, honestly. But I know that ignoring a summons is an incredibly wrong move.” They sat in the quiet of the moment while Mark calculated his next thoughts.

 

“I’ve made arrangements for a flight to set out in three days,” he told Jack. “I’ve already gotten permission for us both to be out of work. You’ll want to pack something warm. Everything warm you have.”

 

Jack nodded calmly, a sick feeling washing over him. “Where is Riiser…whatever you just said?”

 

“On the coast of the Weddell Sea,” the vampire answered nonchalantly. “Antarctica.”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jack’s voice was incredulous as he broke from his petrified trance. “Antarctica. You’re not serious.”

 

“You really think a group of ancient vampires can just camp out anywhere they want in the world?” Mark stood to place the papyrus under a stack of books on his bookshelf. “They’re hiding from humanity. Antarctica is mostly research bases, anyway. And if we know anything about scientists, it’s that they’re _barely_ human to begin with.” Mark chuckled darkly at his own joke, then cleared his throat to continue. “They’re inside one of the glaciers. No one’s ever found their hiding spot.”

 

“God damn _all_ this,” Jack sighed, falling back onto the bed.

 

The flight that Mark had arranged was a small plane, almost a puddle-jumper with a bit more room inside. The pilot, co-pilot, Mark, and Jack were the only ones on board. As they crossed the Southern Ocean, the air inside the plane began to get colder, despite the heater running as high as it could. Jack shivered and wrapped his scarf more tightly around his neck.

 

The plane landed a few miles from the final destination. Mark paid the pilots handsomely and stepped off the plane, Jack lagging behind. The temperature was deadly, and Jack felt like his blood was going to freeze in its veins. To make matters worse, a sinister wind gusted all around, nearly ripping his scarf from his neck and attempting to take his insulated beanie with it.

 

Mark and Jack waddled down through knee-deep snow toward the waters of the ice shelf, where a small rowboat floated in the harbor. A captain sat with oars in hand, watching the two make their way carefully down the bank.

 

“Greetings,” the captain of the boat said once they had settled in. He was an older man, with gray hair and tired eyes. That was about all that Jack could tell about him since the rest of him was covered in heaps of warm animal skins. “The Ancient Ones have been expecting you.”

 

Jack was chilled to the bone, frost forming on his eyelashes, unable to move his fingers and toes anymore. He merely stared dead-eyed at the man rowing the boat through the water.

 

“It’s been decades since I’ve met with them,” Mark answered, putting his hands in the pockets of his double-breasted overcoat. His scarf whipped behind him as he stood to look out over the water just behind the captain. His hair had grown longer, but he kept it cropped short on the sides, creating a bushel of dark locks that the wicked winds toyed with. In the distance, Jack could see an enormous glacier towering over hundreds of feet high in the sea.  

 

“What’s it about?” the old man asked.

 

Mark shrugged. “It’s hard to say.”

 

The captain grunted disapprovingly as he pressed onward. “Sounds like trouble.”

 

Mark laughed once, emotionless.

 

Jack felt something even colder, then—alabaster clawed hands, wrapped around him from behind. A gentle purr in his ear. The dainty perch of Anti’s chin on his shoulder. He didn’t shiver from it. He welcomed the embrace, and he knew that he was the only one who could see or feel his counterpart. In spite of himself, Jack melted into the god’s grip, almost feeling a flicker of warmth.  

 

The captain dumped them off at the edge of the glacier, surrounded by smaller fragments of broken ice shelf. The pair jumped carefully across the ice while the captain began to slowly row back toward the main land. Enormous double-doors made of stone and wood stood between them and the inside of the glacier. Mark stepped forward, releasing his grip on Jack’s elbow, to clang the brass door knocker against the door. They waited for what felt like hours to Jack, barely able to move, until the giant doors creaked open with a sinister, horror movie-esque sound.

 

A mousy man with skin that almost looked translucent stepped from the shadows, dressed in an ebony cultist robe that hid his entire shape. He pulled his hood back, sunken eyes bigger than anything Jack had ever seen, to stare at the two with a hollow, glazed look.

 

“Er…hello,” Mark greeted, clasping his hands together and bowing nervously. “I’m Marquinhos—“

 

The man held his hand up, saying nothing, to silence the vampire. When Mark was still, the man dropped his hand again, hiding it inside his sleeves. He bowed regally, closing his eyes in reverence to Mark and Jack, and turned quickly on his heel to creep back into the darkness. Mark gave a troubled glance back at the frozen human, whose teeth were chattering out of control and muscles sore from shivering. Mark went to his side, helping him limp along toward the glacier. Once they were through the archway, the enormous doors closed behind them.

 

They were led down an endless hallway, a single torch lighting the way, carried by the cultist. Jack noticed that the temperature, although still cold, was definitely an improvement. Once he regained full control of his motor functions, he would be pleased. The vampire did not engage the strange robed man in conversation, and the silence was deafening. Only the click of their heels striking the icy floor below echoed through the glacier.

 

“This is one of their confidants,” Mark told Jack in a hushed voice. The human jumped at the sudden noise in the expanse of the hallway. “They take a vow of silence for the Ancients, so as to never utter the secrets of our kind to other humans.”

 

“How do the Ancients interact with them?” Jack’s lips were still frozen and his words were slurred.

 

“Through telepathy,” Mark answered.

 

“What happens if they…if they fuck up?”

 

“They remove their tongues.” Mark’s reply was dismissive, as if this were an everyday occurrence.

 

Jack gulped, gazing sullenly at the robed figure several feet ahead of them. He hoped the man didn’t hear their conversation, but was almost sure he had heard every word.

 

Within a few moments, the three found their way inside the main chamber room of the glacier. An expansive desk made of some type of dark stone, perhaps obsidian, faced them as they came into the room. It looked very much like a judge’s desk, wrapping in a semi-circle toward the entryway, and five people that Jack assumed to be the Ancients each had their own chair. It was well-lit, with torches that held the flame captive inside a little metal cage so as not to melt all the ice surrounding them.

 

The man in the robes stopped in the middle of the chamber, with Mark and Jack falling just behind him. He approached the obsidian table, dropping to his knees and bowing his head.

 

“You have our gratitude, Confidant Erick,” the man at the head of the table announced in a calm English accent. He was small, with a fierce gleam in his grey eyes, and an almost murderous subtle grin that ended in dimpled cheeks. His short, choppy hair was as dark as his skin was white, and his attire was formal, akin to Victorian dress but with an air of modernity that Jack couldn’t quite describe.

 

The robed man bowed once again, rising slowly, and retreated from the room with eyes glued to the floor before him. Mark and Jack came closer to stand in front of the huge desk. Jack wiggled his fingers and toes, finally able to feel them again, as he stared wide-eyed at those before him.

 

There were two women, one with olive-toned skin and caramel hair twisted into braids, and a fair-skinned maiden with curly golden hair piled atop her head. These were seated on either side of the small but imposing man in the middle. On each end sat the final two, both men, a burly warrior-type with a thick red beard, and a chocolate toned, god-like creature with deep-set eyes and short dreaded locks. All were dressed in the similar Victorian style that the one in the middle was wearing.

 

“Marquinhos,” greeted the middlemost man warmly. “I am so thrilled to see you again after so long. I am sure your journey has exhausted you. Would you have a seat, please?”

 

He beckoned to two exquisite dining chairs with red velvet cushioning that Jack hadn’t noticed before. The two mechanically pulled the chairs to the middle of the room, and almost immediately a pair of robed figures darted out of a side room with a small round coffee table to place in between them.

 

“Would you care for a drink, friends?” the man asked them, snapping his fingers once. The robed people (Jack wasn’t sure of their gender, since their faces were hidden) swooped out of the room and returned within moments, carrying two chalices, one filled with blood and one with water. They sat them on the table, one for Mark and one for Jack, and flew out of the room again after bowing at the Ancients.

 

Mark glanced worriedly out of the corner of his eye at Jack, who stared in amazement at the creatures before him. When Jack seemed disinterested in his glass of water, Mark took the initiative to drain his own chalice dry, gulping feverishly to allow the blood to warm him from within.

 

“Are you going to introduce us to your acquaintance, Marquinhos?” the woman with braids asked, her voice dark and pure with a lilt of an accent from the Mediterranean.

 

“Ah, sure,” Mark squeaked nervously, clearing his throat as he sat down the empty chalice. “This is Jack—sorry. This is Seán McLoughlin. My protégée.”  Jack gave a small wave and an even smaller “hello.”

 

“Hello, Seán,” the fair-skinned woman chuckled. “I am Lucrezia Fiero.”

 

“I am Caelestis Omari,” chimed the olive-toned woman.

 

“I’m known as Ygmor Bavranos,” said the bearded man in a thick Slavic accent.

 

“My name is Ammon El-Sayed,” the darker skinned man grunted, almost monotone.

 

“And I am Malachi Morelock,” the Englishman in the middle announced with grandeur, smiling a sickly smile again. “Welcome to our home.”

 

There was an awkward pause while Jack shuffled uncomfortably in his clothes, now beginning to make him sweat.

 

“Well, you can just call me Jack,” the Irishman told them matter-of-factly. Mark swallowed and pressed his mouth into a line.

 

“ _Jack_ ,” Malachi started, “you appear to be out of your element. Why not discard some of those warm clothes? We’d like to get a better look at you.”

 

“Sure thing,” the human replied hurriedly. He threw back the hood on his heavy coat and tore off his beanie, scraping his fingers through his messy hair to even it out. Once he had undone all the buttons and zippers on his coat, he stripped it to reveal another coat just beneath, and removed that one as well. The Ancients watched in fascination as the human continued to tear layer after layer of clothing off, until he was only left with a goofy, puffy sweater, his jeans, and his snow boots.

 

After many, many minutes of Jack taking clothes off, Malachi spoke again.

 

“Marquinhos, and Jack,” he said, “I’m sure you’re both wondering why we had you travel all the way here.”

 

“We took you away from your holiday festivities, I imagine,” Caelestis surmised.

 

“Oh, well,” Mark laughed, scratching the back of his head. “No, it’s—it’s okay, really.”

 

“I’m sure it was _very_ important to you, wasn’t it, Jack?” asked Lucrezia in a superficial tone, her eyes fierce and locked on Jack. “Humans have a delicate, emotional-based system of needs. Things we have long since forgotten. Things we cease to understand.”

 

“Things about which we grow rather impatient,” huffed Ammon, still very monotone. “But Marquinhos knows as much.” He turned his black eyes on the Korean vampire, who suddenly felt quite afraid.

 

Jack’s shoulders tensed and he held his breath, expecting the absolute worst.

 

“Marquinhos,” Malachi’s voice was full of pity. “You are running out of time, dear great-grandson. Humanity is not forever.” He crooked a pale, bony finger in Jack’s direction. “This one will be a maggot-infested meat sack lying underground in the time it takes you to blink your eyes.” The old vampire’s voice grew sinister and harsh.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Mark offered quietly, his eyes falling to the icy floor. “I’m so, so sorry.” The sincerity and self-loathing in his voice hurt Jack’s soul.

 

A jolt of bravery surged through Jack, and he jumped to his feet, fists clenched at his sides.

 

“It’s not his fault!” Jack cried in a voice that didn’t feel like his own. “It’s mine. I told him I wasn’t ready yet. If you’re gonna punish someone, it should be me.”

 

Malachi twisted his head to each side, cracking the bones at the top of his spine loudly.

 

“ _Punish_ you?” the English vampire questioned incredulously. “That seems rather harsh.”

 

“We thought we would give you…ultimatum.” Ygmor told him.

 

“An ultimatum?” Jack questioned, finding his seat again. Mark’s eyes brightened and he raised his head to look at the group again.

 

“By the beginning of the next year,” Lucrezia said after a moment of pondering. “Anno Domini, two-thousand and sixteen.”

 

“So I have…an entire _year_ left?” Jack questioned hopelessly.

 

“You are lucky to have received this much already,” Caelestis growled. 

 

“And…if I don’t?” Mark prodded. Jack’s heart stopped as he whipped his head sharply to the right to stare at Mark.

 

“But you will!” the human recovered, turning to face the other vampires. “So, no need to worry. He will!”

 

“But if I _don’t_.” There was a challenge in Mark’s voice that Jack was not prepared for.

 

Jack squeaked in fear as Malachi stood, his hands slamming into the obsidian, sending a spidering crack outwards from the force. His eyes were a blazing inferno of crimson and his fangs were sharper than Jack had ever seen. He looked like a monster.  

 

“You _will_ ,” his great-grandfather warned. “To disobey The Prophecy goes against all code of being. We _gave_ life to you, eternally. You owe us this much.”

 

“Unless you would rather die right now!” yelled Ygmor, hopping to his feet. Malachi held a hand out to stop him as he slowly sat back down in his chair. Ygmor followed suit.

 

“No, Ygmor,” Malachi said calmly, his eyes returning to their original color and his smile finding its place once again. “No one needs to die today. These are our terms. Please find it within you to honor them, great-grandson.”

 

“Why can’t you be more like your father?” Ammon teased angrily.

 

Mark flinched, the words hitting him where it hurt. He bit his tongue so hard that he tasted the cold, coppery essence of his own blood.

 

“We have big plans for Janek when he is turned,” Malachi went on as Jack grimaced at his vampiric name. A flicker of light danced in Malachi’s grey eyes as he glanced quickly over to Ammon. “In fact…” Ammon nodded once in affirmation, and then stood, his hand raised outward toward Jack, fingers curled as if to clutch the soul out of the human.

 

Jack gasped and his breath caught in his throat, making a gargling, choked noise. His eyes glazed completely white as his body went limp, and then he rose from his seat, levitating in mid-air with his spine bent backward in an inhuman position.

 

“What the—“ Mark cried, getting to his feet. He started to grab Jack to pull him down, but found that some sort of malevolent force prevented him from touching his friend. “What the hell are you doing to him?”

 

Ammon had begun to mumble a chant under his breath, his own eyes now white and dead like Jack’s had become.

 

“What the _fuck_ is going on?!” Mark roared again, fangs bared at Malachi.

 

The older vampire said nothing.

 

Jack’s mouth was agape, and he tried with everything in him to form words that wouldn’t come. It _hurt_. The pain seared through him like a razor blade but he couldn’t describe it. He just knew it hurt.

 

He could still see everything that was happening. It took every fiber of his being to muster the willpower to tilt his head, ever so slightly, toward the direction of Ammon. Standing right beside Jack was...

 

Anti.

 

He was speaking a language that Jack did not comprehend. Perhaps an ancient language, for all he knew. And Ammon seemed to be…communicating with him.

 

A shrill whine escaped Jack and Anti’s black eyes found his gaze, a look of pure, unbridled rage crossing his face.

 

“Malachi,” Mark begged on the verge of tears, “ _please_ , tell him to let him go, please. He’s hurting him.”

 

A slick trail of blood leaked from Jack’s nose and dripped onto the ground before his eyes were baby blue again and he thudded onto the ice below.

 

Mark rushed to his side, holding his shoulders while his body convulsed, attempting to soothe him. Jack’s breath came raggedly, but he was glad that he could breathe again, even with each inhale setting his lungs ablaze.

 

“What happened?” the Korean vampire questioned, infuriated. “What did you do to him?!”

 

Ammon bowed his head slightly, taking his seat again.

 

“Is someone gonna fucking _talk_ to me?” Mark was at the end of his wits.

 

“That will be all for today, Marquinhos,” Malachi replied coldly with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Confidant Erick will escort you to the door. The boatman will arrive shortly thereafter.”

 

As Jack hacked and coughed his way back to life, Mark gritted his teeth so hard he thought they would break. He stood as if to rush the obsidian table with all his strength. “No…no, you tell me just what in the actual _fuck_ you did to him, or so help me _God_ —“

 

“Marquinhos, _enough_ ,” Caelestis decreed. “You know better than this.”

 

Mark stopped, his blood feeling colder in its veins than it ever had. The sick feeling of incompetence filled him and his shoulders dropped as he returned to the ground to help Jack to his feet.

 

“Hey, you alright?” Mark asked softly. Jack looked up at him with an emptiness in his eyes that worried his friend. A few more drops of blood leaked from his nose and Mark did his best to wipe it clean with his thumb. “Let’s get you dressed, okay?” The vampire glared daggers at the Ancient council. “We’re leaving.”

 

Mark and Jack made their way cautiously down the darkened hallway behind Confidant Erick, bearing his torch in hand. He led them to the door that slowly opened up for them. Mark turned to look at the robed man, whose baleful eyes engulfed the world around him. There was a deep gash in the man’s throat that Mark hadn’t noticed before. Mark’s eyebrows narrowed, his words caught in his throat as he looked at the wound, and his heart sank when he realized that it was fresh…that it was _his_ blood in Mark’s chalice. The confidant bowed once more to Mark and Jack before turning to pick up his torch again, the doors slamming shut behind him.

 

There was a woeful silence as the pair rode back to shore with the boat captain.

 

A living quarters was stationed just up the hill from the boat dock, an insulated wooden one-room cabin. Inside was a fireplace and some old logs, a small kitchen, a bathroom, and a bed with heaps of blankets and furs strewn across it. The pilots of the plane had been kind enough to take their bags to the cabin for them, stowed neatly in the far corner of the room. Mark worked to get the fire started while Jack sat on the bed, beginning to remove some of his layers.

 

“What happened to you?” Mark asked him after some time had passed. “What did they do?”

 

Jack struggled to recollect, his face beginning to unthaw from the negative temperatures outside.

 

“I don’t remember,” he answered.

 

“You can’t remember anything at all?”

 

Jack shook his head slowly. “No.”

 

A look of disappointment crossed Mark’s face and he sighed deeply. “Maybe it’ll come back to you.” He stood and crossed to look out the one window in the entire building. “The plane will be back tomorrow. I wasn’t sure how long the Ancients needed us, so the pilots are staying at a base a couple of hours away for the night.”

 

“Are…we gonna share this bed?” Jack questioned.

 

Mark chuckled. “The important questions.” The fire had begun to warm the coldness of the cabin and Jack crawled under a mass of blankets.

 

The vampire stood at the window, watching as heavy snowflakes had begun to fall from an overcast evening sky. The wind swirled them around like they were trapped inside a snow globe. Jack’s rhythmic breathing and the steady rise and fall of his chest calmed Mark into a trance.

 

Just one more year of that. One more year of his friend as Jack, the human. Jack, the man with a future and a girlfriend and a life. Just one more year to be with his best friend, the person who he would never know the same way again.

 

He didn’t realize that an entire night had come and gone while he stood at the window, gazing through the snow globe and wishing he didn’t feel trapped behind the glass.


	19. Unpredictable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in?  
> In your head, in your mouth, in your soul.  
> And maybe we'll get lucky and we'll both grow old.  
> Well I don't know  
> I don't know  
> I don't know  
> I hope so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it hasn't *quite* been a full month since I updated this, but it's been pretty close. I'm sorry! This chapter is short because I wanted to update before the new year. I'll start working on the next chapter soon. Expect something really terrible to happen. Just as a forewarning. OK hope everyone had a lovely holiday season and we're all gonna go into 2018 ready to take on the world!!!

**2015**

 

“ _Hey_ , you stupid fuckin’ cunt!” Jack yelled jokingly upon being splashed in the face by Mark.

 

“Who are you callin’ a cunt?” Mark asked, appalled. Jack delivered a surge of salt water to the vampire’s head, drenching his hair to the point of no return.

 

“Why don’t you both shut the fuck up?” Amber laughed from the beach, lounging in her chair beneath an umbrella and enjoying a Corona with lime. Stella and Rochelle sat off to the side on a blanket, sensually feeding each other cherries and strawberries. Moxy lazed idly beside Amber’s beach chair, emitting a snort every now and then to let everyone know the dog was still alive. 

 

Mark galloped toward the shore, picking his feet up comically as he tried to hop over the small waves. He reached the cooler near Amber and pulled out an icy beer, his fourth in under an hour, and popped the cap off, turning the bottle up to chug.

 

“Jeez, Mark,” Amber said, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up at him through her sunglasses. “Had enough yet?”

 

The vampire took the bottle away from his lips, shaking his head playfully which splattered Amber with sea water. She squealed and attempted to hide her face from the intruding water.

 

“Save one o’ those for me, will ya?” Jack called as he hobbled back to shore. Mark handed his friend a Corona, already opened for him.

 

“Yeah,” Rochelle groaned, a look of disgust on her face, “don’t you remember the last time you got super drunk?”

 

“Holy shit, that was over a year ago!” Stella exclaimed as she bolted upright, the sudden realization of time’s quick passage hitting her like a ton of bricks.

 

“I’m fine, ladies,” Mark cooed, winking at the pair on the blanket. “Trust me. I’m not gonna get that drunk ever again, hopefully.”

 

Jack’s twenty-fifth birthday had come and gone, much to his chagrin, back in February. It was now nearing the end of March, but this was all that he wanted for his birthday: to spend time with his friends at the beach. Having fun for once.

 

It was difficult to get everyone’s schedules to sync up, but they finally did, and the Santa Monica beach was starting to crowd up with spring-breakers and retirees.

 

The Irishman’s mood had almost completely altered over the course of the last couple of months, and Amber had started to notice. He was more carefree, laid-back, more of himself…and extremely unpredictable. He seemed happy for the first time in forever, and she couldn’t help but be a little suspicious.

 

Mark and Jack had not told anyone else about their trip to visit the Ancients. Not Amber, not his family, no one. Jack wasn’t positive if he would ever tell Amber. Mark wasn’t positive that if he told his family, he would come out alive. And neither were positive of the Ancient’s plans if Jack wasn’t turned by the agreed-upon time.

 

Jack had made so many plans once he found out that he only had one year left as a human. Travel as much as he could. Visit with his loved ones. Be himself. Try to ignore the nagging in his brain that was so characteristic of Anti, even though the god on occasion still took control of him to assist Mark with feeding…and every now and then had to get his taste of intimacy with Amber, unbeknownst to her. Jack only hoped that Amber still preferred _him_ over Anti.

 

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” Rochelle asked.

 

“Tonight?” Mark questioned, eyebrows narrowing. “Some of us have to go to work. I start my summer schedule.”

 

“Psh,” Jack scoffed, “blow it off. Come on. Go to the bar with me.”

 

Amber scowled. “You didn’t tell me you were going out to the bar tonight.”

 

“I just made it up!” the Irishman laughed. “You guys can all come if you want.”

 

The redheaded woman groaned. “I dunno.”

 

“Sounds like fun,” Stella countered, perking up.

 

“I have shit to do tomorrow,” Rochelle snapped. “Mark, don’t listen to Jack, he’s being reckless. You need to go to work.”

 

“Well…” Mark toyed with the idea in his head. He had been trying relentlessly to appease Jack ever since their trip last Christmas and it seemed to be working. He loved seeing his friend smile. Maybe he could even have a little something extra after an evening out with Jack if Anti was willing to help him.

 

“ _Mark_ ,” Amber scolded, “you’re not actually thinking about skipping work. Right?” Her voice was uncertain as she glared at the two friends.

 

“Come onnnnn,” Jack urged again, shaking Mark by the shoulder and trying not to slosh his beer out of the bottle.

 

The vampire sighed deeply, picking up his phone from under a beach towel. He pressed a complicated series of numbers to unlock it and tapped his top speed dial, putting the phone to his ear. After one more sip of beer, he stepped away to mumble something into the phone, managing to feign a believable cough or two before hanging up quickly.

 

“You did not.” Amber stared with hollow eyes at Mark as he came back to the group.

 

“What?” he asked, avoiding the glares and surprised looks from the group, choosing to focus on Jack’s silly, drunken grin. “I’m sick today.” With a shrug, he finished off his fourth beer and slapped Jack playfully across his face.

 

Jack’s motor functions were slightly delayed, but once he realized what Mark had done, the vampire began to run back toward the ocean, his human friend chasing after him and yelling Irish curses as loudly as he could.

 

“You gotta get your boy under control, Amber,” Rochelle sighed, watching the two splash into the seawater. Stella felt the same, but chose to remain quiet, glancing worriedly at her roommate in the beach chair.

 

Amber reached down to stroke Moxy, scratching gently behind the dog’s ears. “He’ll be alright,” she answered, mostly to reassure herself. “I’m just happy that he’s happy.” She smiled to herself as she watched the two in the ocean, Jack pretending to water board Mark while the vampire thrashed wildly, spitting salt water out and laughing uncontrollably.

 

The month of April was dangerously close to its end. Jack had no sooner arrived at work for the afternoon when he was called into his direct supervisor’s office and forcibly told to sit.

 

“Surely you know why you’re in here, Seán,” the frail-but-menacing old woman—Dr. Louisa Keithann—barked from her enormous chair, glaring daggers at the young man across from her desk.

 

Jack crossed his arms, pouting like a moody teenager. “What is it now?”

 

Dr. Keithann gestured to Jack’s hair, and then his right arm. “You’re breaking dress code. Again.”

 

He smirked, running a hand through his freshly-dyed green locks and trailing his fingertips idly over his healing tattoo, the Bold Hunter’s Mark from his newest favorite video game _Bloodborne_.

 

“I already had to take out my plugs for you people,” he retorted, pulling at his ear lobes. “Now my ears look dumb. They’re all empty.”

 

“We have a strict appearance policy here, Mr. McLoughlin,” the doctor seethed through clenched teeth.

 

“What do you care if I have green hair an’ a tattoo? How is that hurtin’ anybody?”

 

“Watch yourself,” Dr. Keithann warned. “Not another word.”

 

Jack squinted his eyes at her. “Or what?”

 

At half past three in the afternoon, Mark was awakened by a thunderous knock at his door. He groaned, tossing his blanket off of his head and shuffled groggily to the front door. Upon opening it, the sun blinding him momentarily, his eyes adjusted to see Jack beaming at him, hands in the front pocket of his scrubs.

 

“Guess who just got fired!” Jack exclaimed in a sing-song voice.

 

Completely unable to any longer be surprised by anything, Mark closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, stepping aside to invite his friend to come in.

 

Jack was six shots deep in hundred-year-old bourbon when his phone rang, playing the familiar ringtone that was set specifically for Amber.

 

“ _You got fired_?!” Mark heard from the opposite end of the room. He swallowed and looked out of the corner of his eye at Jack, whose face was expressionless as he let her shriek into his ear.

 

“Listen, baby,” Jack purred, attempting to calm her. “Everything’s gonna be alright. I promise. I’ll get a new job soon, okay?”

 

After another fifteen or so minutes, Jack hung up the phone once the couple had come to some type of agreement. Mark sat slowly on the other side of the couch with his drink in hand, reaching carefully to pour another shot for Jack.

 

“That sounded like it went…decently?” the vampire noted.

 

Jack took the full shot rather than sipping it, nearly choking on a stray ice cube. “It’s fine, she’s fine. Hey, I’m hungry, what should we eat?” He stood, stumbling sideways as he swayed into the kitchen to look for food.

 

“I think you should probably just…maybe we should go see her?” Mark offered, trying to make this right. He felt bad that Jack’s drunkenness probably didn’t help smooth things over with Amber, but he wasn’t sure at this point what _would_ help.

 

“ _Nope_!” Jack said quickly. “Don’t think so. Not right now. She wouldn’t like that.” He stopped searching in the refrigerator and slammed the door closed, stumbling over toward the counter next to the sink. “Besides, neither of us can—“ The green-haired man hiccupped and he turned on the cold water in the faucet. “Neither of us can _drive_.” Jack leaned his face into the water, allowing it to wash over his cheek and across his tongue, drinking a little every now and then.  

 

“I mean, _I_ can drive,” Mark corrected. “Is she really mad still?”

 

Jack spit cold water all over the sink in a violent spray. “Yeah.”

 

“Goddammit,” the Korean-German sighed.

 

“Hey, when’s your birthday?” Jack turned off the faucet and dried his face with a musty dish towel.

 

“Er…” Mark began, gazing suspiciously at his friend. “Next week. Why?”

 

“We should go to your parents’ house. Y’know? Like, right now. Let’s just leave! Right now!”

 

Jack staggered back across the living room and toward the couch, tripping over an area rug and landing in a heap on the floor. Instead of immediately moving, he chose to lie there, absorbed in his inebriation. Mark waited for some kind of acknowledgement that he wasn’t dead.

 

“Ow,” Jack groaned eventually, muffled into the rug.

 

The vampire stood and moved to his drunken buddy, swooping him up effortlessly to place him on the couch.

 

“I’m gonna get you some water,” Mark promised as he walked into the kitchen to grab a glass. He filled the glass with ice from the freezer and poured some fresh water from the Brita water filter that he kept in his refrigerator. Turning to face Jack again, he saw that the human had disappeared from the couch.

 

“Ugh,” grunted a voice from behind him. The vampire turned on his heel to see that Jack was standing there, holding his head in his hands and staring at the floor. “My head…won’t stop…spinning.” Jack raised his head slowly, mechanically, and very unnaturally to look into Mark’s chocolate eyes. “What is the point of pushing the human body to its limits with alcohol?” He stumbled, holding himself up at the kitchen counter, as he took the glass out of Mark’s hands violently and began to chug.

 

“…Anti?” the dark-haired man whispered, squinting at Jack through the glass.

 

“Who else?” the god taunted as he finished the water, slamming the glass down on the counter. “It seems Jack needed some time to rest.” He hiccupped again, holding his chest in pain, as he reached for the phone in Jack’s back pocket of his scrubs. “I have a phone call to make.”

 

“I don’t think that’s such a good—“ No sooner had Mark tried to grab the phone out of Anti’s hands did he bolt out of the way, slamming his back against the wall and shooting a warning glare to the vampire. On the other end of the phone, Mark heard the voice of Amber.

 

“You better have a good fucking reason for calling me back, Seán,” the redhead cursed.

 

“I do, sweetness,” Anti cooed in Jack’s voice, dropped an octave or two lower to increase the sensuality. “I know I’m a massive fuck-up. I realize that. But you make me want to be a better person.” The deity rolled his eyes and pointed to the phone with a smirk in an attempt to make a joke about the gullible nature of women, Mark assumed. The Korean only stared at him, listening intently to the other side of the conversation.

 

“Don’t feed me this shit,” Amber yelled. “I’m not in the mood.”

 

“Please,” Anti begged. “Please, just…” Mark saw then a genuine hint of worry in Anti’s eyes, and the god looked to Mark before answering. “I have to die next year.”

 

Mark’s heart sank and his jaw dropped as he sucked in a breath.

 

“…What?” asked the woman on the other end of the phone.

 

“The Ancients told Mark that he has to turn me by next year,” Anti explained. “So…I have this year left. Okay? But don’t panic. Everything is going to be fine. You just…you have to believe me.”

 

“I don’t…” Amber trailed off, her voice breaking. “Okay, I…I guess.”

 

“Don’t be sad. Don’t cry. Okay? Please. I love you.”

 

“I love you so much too, Seán.” Amber told him. “Do you…can you please come over? I wanna see you.”

 

Anti smiled. “Of course. See you in a bit?”

 

Their conversation ended and Anti smirked at Mark, who still couldn’t believe what he just witnessed.

 

“I don’t think I can operate a motor vehicle under this condition,” Anti told him. “Would you mind to take me to her place? It appears that the over-indulgence of alcohol has given me an urge that I need to take care of.” He chuckled darkly.

 

“Did you _seriously_ tell her that I have to turn Jack just so you can get laid?” the vampire growled. “I’m not fucking taking you anywhere.”

 

“ _Relax_ , bloodsucker,” the god snapped. “She’s not pissed at him anymore, is she? This will make things easier for their relationship. No more stress or worry. And if that gets me what I want, then…” He trailed off, his smile crooked and eyes fierce. “Win-win.”

 

Although he didn’t want to agree, Mark couldn’t argue with the logic. Behind every action of Anti, there was a driving force that felt akin to compassion, or at the very least, understanding. Mark’s face fell as he walked toward the door, grabbing his keys from the table with Anti on his heels.


	20. My Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Tonight   
> You breathed.  
> Then you stopped.  
> I breathed, then dried you off.  
> And tonight...  
> I feel, feel like more.  
> Tonight I feel like,  
> Feel like more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoa wait a second what dis?? what happening?? i am uploading aNOTHER chapter and it's only been like 2 days?? wild.
> 
> Let me just go ahead and warn you guys that this chapter is AWFUL, some really fucked up shit happens ok, I actually felt really grief-stricken while writing this so I need to go take a break for a while and think about literally anything else. tfw you trigger urself amirite
> 
> Seriously this one's rough I'm not playin

The apartment was finally beginning to look like a place of human residence again.

 

Jack had really let a lot of his organizing and tidying go, mostly since he was rarely at home anymore. His friends assumed that losing his job would have knocked him down a few pegs, but by a mere two weeks later, he had a new occupation—a coffee shop barista. It didn’t pay nearly as much, and he ended up selling several of his belongings just to pay rent, but he was happy with it. Much less stressful than the hospital, _and_ he got to keep his green hair and didn’t have to cover his tattoo. He even wore his plugs more often.

 

“Is there any particular place you want…this thing?” Mark called, carrying an oversized painting of a multi-colored chicken into the living room. Jack popped his head out from behind the couch, desperately scrubbing a mysterious stain out of the rug to no avail.

 

“Oh, yeah,” he said, “I forgot about that thing. There should be some nails an’ a hammer in the cleaning supply closet.” The green-haired man pointed absentmindedly toward the kitchen where Mark had just been. “You can hang it wherever you’d like.”

 

The vampire looked around, eyes searching for anywhere that made sense to put a quirky chicken painting on the wall. After a few moments, he sighed and put the painting on the floor, returning to the kitchen to find the toolbox.

 

The Irishman heard the sound of clutter toppling out of the closet and the hushed curses of his friend simultaneously, and he tried to stifle his chuckling.

 

“I hear you,” Mark warned. Jack stopped laughing.

 

The Korean man came back into the living room, hammer and nails in hand, ready to hang the chicken painting.

 

“I’m really glad you came over to help me,” Jack said sincerely, standing up to let the stain remover attempt to remove the mess from the rug. His back and knees popped loudly as they adjusted to his motion.

 

“What are friends for?” Mark asked rhetorically. There was silence for a limited time while Jack made his way to the coffee table, trying to organize his DVD and music collection.

 

“Have you thought about maybe finding somewhere else to live?” the immortal questioned in a gentle manner. “This isn’t…the cheapest place.”

 

Jack scoffed as he tossed some DVD cases into his “trash pile” on the floor. “Not unless I wanna live in the slums or somethin’.”

 

“There are other places to live in L.A. that aren’t the slums,” Mark told him, annoyance in his tone.

 

“I thought about Compton,” the Irishman said, “but…I mean, you know.”

 

Mark finished hammering in the nails, turning to blink casually at his human friend. “No, I don’t know. What are you insinuating about Compton?”

 

Jack shrugged, pursing his lips tightly closed.

 

“I mean, it’s cheap there, for sure,” Mark answered.

 

“Yeah, ‘cause nobody wants to live there.”

 

“Why don’t they wanna live there?”

 

“ _Drugs_ , Mark. The crimes. Guns everywhere, Mark.” Exasperated, Jack put his head in his hands. “The L.A. gangs.”

 

“‘The L.A. gangs,’” Mark repeated mockingly. “Really? ‘The L.A. gangs.’”

 

“Are you done hangin’ the fuckin’ chicken? I’d really like this place to look decent before my parents get here.”

 

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Mark mocked, turning back to hang the painting with delicate, precise hands, muttering under his breath, “…L.A. gangs.”    

 

Jack’s fear grew by the day that he wouldn’t be able to see his parents again before he was turned, and so he made a plan for them to visit Santa Monica in the summertime to spend a week with him rather than worrying about Christmas plans. He managed to get the time off from work since he swore his boss might have had a minor to moderate crush on him, but he still wasn’t sure about it. Luckily, his parents had the money and were delighted to hop on a flight to come see him and experience the magic of L.A. in the summer warmth.

 

He also couldn’t remember how, but he must have told Amber about how he was going to be turned by the next year. She had become especially clingy, texting him all hours of the day and making endless plans to hang out. He wasn’t angry about it, of course. He loved spending time with her. He just wished he could recall why he decided to tell her.

 

“When are your parents getting here, again?” Mark asked after adjusting the painting slightly.

 

“Tomorrow evening.” The green-haired man stood and paced around, looking for something else to keep his hands busy. He decided to check the status of the stain remover on the rug, but ultimately, it was a lost cause. He wished he hadn’t had to sell his drum kit. Or his computer.

 

“Are you doing anything tonight?” the vampire pondered quietly.

 

“Let me guess,” Jack sighed, turning to face him. “You wanna have some blood. Or you wanna fuck.”

 

“I mean, either would be good. Or both.”

 

It had been nice that Mark didn’t feed on Jack’s blood anymore, since the human was to undergo his transformation soon, but the blood bags from the hospital rarely seemed to satisfy his thirst. As for his other needs…Jack was just happy that Anti accompanied Mark wherever they ventured rather than the mortal being forced to experience it. Anti liked it better that way as well.

 

“Where are you gonna go tonight?” The Irishman tried to sound interested in Mark’s adventures, but couldn’t help that his stomach would turn every time he thought about it.

 

“Probably my favorite spot,” the vampire answered.

 

“ _He needs his fill of Envy to satisfy his lust,_ ” Anti joked from his subconscious.

 

“Well, make sure not to satisfy gluttony too,” Jack said aloud. Mark cocked his head to one side and Jack tapped the side of his skull to let his friend know that he was in the middle of another interaction.

 

Karina Lupo, otherwise known as “Envy,” was Mark’s traditional snack of choice. He had stopped asking Anti to make her forget about their evenings together, since she had begun to recollect bits and pieces on her own to put the puzzle together. She knew about vampires, and she wasn’t afraid of Mark. Anti was more than happy to oblige Mark by leaving him alone so that he could enjoy the club on his own.

 

“You have had every opportunity to kill me,” the Latina stripper had told Mark one evening, tracing circles on his bare chest while they lay in the private room bed on silken sheets. “And yet, you haven’t. I’ll keep your secret…as long as you keep making me cum like that.” She nibbled on his neck playfully and he couldn’t help but smile, because for the first time, he felt more than a simple lusting for someone. He felt a connection that was similar to friendship, and he hoped to keep it for as long as he could. It made him feel human.

 

“I don’t have to go if you don’t want,” Mark told him, pulled from his daydream about Envy. “It’s really okay. She’s not expecting me.”

 

“Does she ever expect you?”

 

“No. How could she? She’s a sex worker. She’s got dozens of men lining up for her every night.” Mark continued to adjust the painting on the wall to an overwhelming degree. “I don’t call her up and tell her I’m coming, or anything.”

 

“It’s fine,” Jack replied after a moment, waving his hand. “I don’t have plans tonight anyways. So long as we can get this house clean.”

 

“I think the house is clean, Jack.”

 

The Irishman looked around, seeing to his surprise that there really _wasn’t_ anything left to do. Stress had overwhelmed him to the extent that a mere speck of dust on the floor would have driven him insane, but he chose to let it go for now.   

 

“Huh,” he scoffed. “You’re right.”

 

Mark grinned and Anti rejoiced.

 

* * *

 

“Hi, Jackie!” Mary’s voice was filled with excitement, if not a little garbled by the bad quality of cell phone service. “Just wanted to let you know your Dad and I landed safely.”

 

“It’s a little past time, isn’t it?” Jack asked, holding his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he laced up his shoes.

 

“Yes, we were delayed several hours because of weather. Always rainy in Ireland, y’know.” Danny was speaking in the background, but Jack couldn’t make out what he was saying. His mother tried to relay a message from Danny to Jack, but instead his father forcefully took the phone from her hands.

 

“Hey, son.” He sounded exhausted.

 

“Hi Dad! What’s up?”

 

“Your Ma and I are going to stay in a hotel for the night,” Danny told him. Jack’s spirits fell as he stopped tying his other shoe.

 

“Oh…” The hurt in the green-haired man’s voice was not well-hidden.

 

“It’s nearly midnight,” the older Irishman said, yawning loudly. “We don’t want to come in on you this late. You can come pick us up tomorrow, so you don’t have to get out of your house tonight. And so we don’t have to pay the taxi fares.” Danny’s hearty laugh ended in a minor coughing fit. “Y’know how the drivers are to foreigners. Always try to con ya.”

 

“Yeah.” Jack began slowly taking off his shoes, his expression not changing. “It’s just…I was gonna meet ya at the airport an’ all. Hold one o’ those signs up with your names on it. But I saw online the flight would be really delayed, so…”

 

“Anyway,” his father continued unfazed, “your mother will text you the address of our hotel when we get there. Don’t fret! You’ll be with us soon enough.”

 

“I really can’t wait, Da.” A sad smile lit up Jack’s face as he wiped away a tear. He meant the words more literally than either of his parents knew.

 

“Bright an’ early, boy, just like your granddad used to do!” Danny laughed once more before saying goodbye, and Jack heard Mary in the background blowing him kisses and screaming that she loved him before the line went silent.

 

Jack sighed, throwing his phone to his side as he fell backwards onto the bed. He was in better spirits this evening after having a rather rough morning due to Anti and Mark staying out most of the night before. Now he felt even worse than he did when he woke up.

 

_What’s the big deal, though?_ he thought. _I’ll see them in the morning. Less than twelve hours._

 

He glanced at the clock out of the corner of his eye, keeping his ears perked for his phone to light up with a text from his Ma. After half an hour of nothing, he gave up, tearing his clothes off and turning off his lamp to lie down for some rest.

 

Jack’s eyes snapped open after what felt like only fifteen minutes to see the morning sun streaming through his blinds. He jolted upright, immediately regretting doing so. His head ached and he felt like he had been run over by a truck. It was likely a leftover side-effect of having Anti take the reins the other night.

 

He fumbled clumsily for his phone to see that he had put it on the charger overnight. No new texts from his mother lit up the home screen, so he typed in his pass code and opened his messages. “Mom” was at the top, surrounded by two pink emoji hearts, and her message had already been seen. At nearly one o’clock in the morning, she had sent Jack the address to their hotel and what room they were staying in.

 

“I must’a checked it in my sleep,” Jack wondered aloud. He got up, went to the bathroom for a quick shower, and was dressed, ready to head to his car.

 

He hopped into the Civic and started it up only to find that he was nearly out of gas.

 

“Dammit…” he cursed. He could have sworn he had at least a quarter of a tank yesterday. Jack sighed, pulling out his phone to dial Mark’s number.

 

Mark arrived in record time, always happy to help Jack at a moment’s notice. The Irishman really was becoming quite spoiled. He hopped into the passenger’s seat of Mark’s car and clicked on the radio, tapping his foot to the beat of a metal song.

 

“Did you let them know we were on our way?” Mark asked, looking over at Jack in the passenger’s seat.

 

“Textin’ her right now,” he replied, tongue stuck between his teeth in concentration. “Thank you so much for pickin’ me up. I would’a called Amber, but it’s kinda early.”

 

“Sure thing,” the vampire told him. “Where are we headed to?”

 

Jack punched the address from his mom’s text into his phone to let Siri show them the way.

 

Thanks to traffic, the drive was about forty-five minutes in total. Jack constantly checked his phone, waiting for a reply from Mary that still hadn’t come.

 

They arrived at the hotel to a scene of police cars and ambulances, red and blue lights blinding Mark’s sensitive eyes. The “hotel” was a roadside motel in reality, with two stories, each room having only one entrance which led directly to the outside. It was run-down, the metal stairs rusted with time and carelessness, with graffiti tags on some of the outside walls and sidewalks. Jack was still absorbed in his phone, but looked up once Mark had parked the car away from the scene of whatever accident had occurred.

 

“What happened here?” Jack asked nervously as he hopped out of the vehicle. “Doesn’t look good!”

 

Mark was immediately hit with the sickly-sweet smell of blood and the more unpleasant scent of early rotting flesh. He froze as Jack started toward the stairs of the motel to head up to the second floor.

 

“Jack--!” Mark hissed. The human turned to see a look on Mark’s face that he hadn’t seen in a long time: genuine dread and fear.

 

He chose to ignore the warning, backing up a single step, even though it felt like there was a two-ton brick sinking his stomach to his knees. “C—come on, Mark. They’re waiting for us.”

 

“Jack, I…” Again, the Korean tried desperately to stop his friend, but Jack blocked him out.

 

He was looking for room 207. He passed 201 and 202, each door giving him crippling anxiety and making his head swim. The closer he got to the yellow police tape, the more he began to worry. He passed room 203.

 

204.

 

205.

 

He stopped.

 

Mark was behind him, having just come up the stairs, his hand covering his mouth as he tried not to inhale the scent of obvious death ahead of them.

 

Jack could see that the next door, 206, was closed. The door past 206 was open and was the one being investigated by the police.

 

His heart hammered in his throat and he swallowed, trying to calm his nerves. Jack took one step forward. Then another. Mark was upon him then. Jack didn’t turn around.

 

“Hey,” Mark whispered in his caramel voice. “Hey, listen, buddy—“

 

A jolt of energy surged Jack forward. He blindly ripped through the yellow caution tape, pushing past an officer that was yelling at him to stay away from the “crime scene.” He faintly heard in the distance that Mark was calming the female officer down.

 

“That’s his parents, that’s his parents,” he was saying. Everything felt muffled and far away in Jack’s head as he stepped into the open doorway.

 

Blood. Blood everywhere. On every wall. The carpet. The ceiling. His father’s lifeless body lying on the ground. A double-barrel shotgun fallen out of his hands. His head was…mostly gone. Just a few chunks here and there that didn’t resemble his father at all.

 

He stepped inside further, careful to move around the mess on the floor that used to be a human.

 

Sneaking into the bathroom, he met his mother’s cold, glazed eyes as she stared at him, hanging limp from a shower fixture. Slick lines of blood and bodily fluids were still dripping from beneath her dress as she swayed gently, the thick rope pressed deep into her neck.

 

Jack began to back away slowly, carefully, until he heard a soft _squish_ sound in the carpet. His heart full of dread, he dared to look down. He had stepped on pieces of his father’s brains. He turned then, running outside to the railing, where he leaned outward and vomited violently, expelling everything he had in his system for several minutes, and then dry-heaving when there was nothing left.

 

He sucked in an enormous breath and shrieked into the sky, throwing his head back in a blood-chilling wail that would make a banshee envious. Mark and the officers watched in agonized horror as sobs racked Jack’s body, and he hung over the side of the balcony trying to catch his breath.

 

Paramedics surrounded them, trying to contain the inconsolable Irishman as he fought them off of him, yelling curses and spitting furiously.

 

He kept hearing the words “suicide,” “homicide-suicide,” “the bodies,” over and over. “Did they have a history of depression?” “What were they doing in the United States?” “Would he be willing to answer some questions as part of the investigation?”

 

Mark tried his best to field the onslaught of questions while Jack’s brain went numb. The paramedics had captured him and were taking him to the ambulance. He gave in and stopped fighting. Mark followed closely behind them, asking that he go with Jack wherever they took him.

 

The owner of the motel stood outside shaking her head in despair, tears streaming down her face. She had no leads as to what could have happened outside of suicide.

 

“Our cameras just…they froze up last night,” she offered sadly. “We’re clueless. Like they just glitched out all of a sudden. Didn’t know if anyone was coming or going.”

 

Jack clung to sanity as he was loaded into the back of the ambulance, strapped down to a gurney with an oxygen mask stuck to his face.

 

The funeral service was held in Athlone two weeks later, on a rainy Sunday morning outside of the Catholic church his parents frequented. Mark and Amber accompanied Jack as he and his siblings laid their mother and father to rest in the hauntingly beautiful graveyard. Jack’s brothers and sisters each brought a token to place on the graves of their parents. Something that reminded them of their lives. His father’s favorite whiskey, a piece of fabric from his mother’s favorite blanket.

 

Jack brought them each a gift. One was a hat that Danny had often liked to wear, especially to Sunday Mass. The other was his mother’s silver heart-shaped locket on a chain that she would don on special occasions. He placed them on the crucifixes erected on the graves covered in stone and decorative glass pieces.

 

Jack’s siblings each shared a kind word or two with him, despite the fact that since moving to America he had barely had contact with any of them. He was always close with Malcolm, his older brother, but neither were very talkative today. Just standing in silence with him felt like enough, and they held each other while looking at the beauty of the graves before them.

 

Mark and Amber waited by a dying tree as the frigid rain began to fall.

 

“I can’t believe this,” Amber whispered under her breath, wiping away tears. “This is just so fucked up.”

 

“I don’t think they killed themselves,” Mark hypothesized. Amber looked over quickly.

 

“You think…murder?”

 

The vampire shrugged. “I think anything is possible.”

 

Both kept watching as Jack and Malcolm continued to hold each other, Malcolm taking out a flask from his pocket and drinking from it, then passing it to his younger brother who indulged as well.

 

“I talked him into therapy,” Amber mentioned. “At least now he will have something normal to talk about that isn’t vampires or gods. Maybe they can get him on meds.”

 

Mark felt slightly concerned about the idea, but wanted to reassure the young girl. “Maybe.”

 

Amber finally got too cold after waiting another half hour for Jack, and so she took refuge inside the church to give him a little more time. Mark sauntered over to the mourning brothers.

 

“Hi,” Mark said, holding out his hand toward Jack’s brother. “Mark Fischbach. I’m so sorry about your parents. It’s truly tragic.”

 

“Malcolm,” he answered gruffly. “Thank you for comin.’ I’m sorry, too.”

 

There was an insufferable silence. Malcolm excused himself to mingle with family and friends inside the church. Jack and Mark stood alone in the rain.

 

“So,” the vampire began, “you’re gonna try therapy?”

 

Jack shrugged. His face was pale, eyes rounded with black and swollen from too many tears. His chapped lips looked like they might crack open and bleed any moment.

 

“If you’d rather,” Mark suggested carefully, “…I could turn you early. Then you wouldn’t have to think about this.”

 

The green-haired man shook his head. “I can’t do that. That’s cowardly.”

 

Mark was taken aback. “Cowardly?”

 

“I can’t let that be my story,” the human went on. “It’s not supposed to end like that. I can’t run from my problems.”

 

“I guess that’s—“ Jack cut Mark off before he could finish.

 

“Why do you think I’ve put off turning into a vampire for so long?” Jack looked at Mark with lifeless eyes. “I don’t want to be inhuman. I like the human experience, the good and the bad. This is…” He shook his head, holding back tears. “This is a fuckin’ _nightmare_ , y’know? But I’m still here. I’m still alive. Ma an’ Da wouldn’t want me to give up now. No matter how bad it hurts…the human experience is still what I want. My story isn’t over yet.”

 

His Korean friend stood, awestruck and confused by Jack’s words, but kept silent. Both gazed hollowly at the fresh graves.    

 

 “So, yeah,” Jack said after a while, sniffling into a handkerchief. “Therapy. Like any normal human would do.” He reached into the pocket of his dress slacks and pulled out an airplane bottle of Jack Daniels and screwed the cap off. “I’m gettin’ my full goddamned year.” Pressing the bottle to his lips, he drained the contents in a single swallow.

 

When the sun finally revealed itself again, the world was a little greener.


	21. The Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Older brother, restless soul, lie down  
> Lie for a while with your ear against the earth  
> And you'll hear your sister sleep talking,  
> Say, 'Your hair is long, but not long enough to reach  
> Home to me.  
> But your beard  
> Someday might be.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what the actual hell is going on lol. *D.Va voice* I'm on FIRE! 
> 
> This was an unexpected surprise to me. I didn't think I'd find where I was going with this chapter but I got something going on so I hope you guys enjoy. Happy holidays and have a GR8 new year!

A healthy dosage of Zoloft and therapy helped Jack get back on his feet after the death of his parents.

 

He didn’t feel completely well, as if the medication was just masking his true feelings rather than eliminating them, but he wasn’t complaining about it, either. Waking up was easier. His appetite was better. His hygiene wasn’t suffering anymore. Sometimes he pulled extra shifts at the coffee shop because work was a nice distraction.

 

Visiting his homeland of Ireland had been on his bucket list, and it was unfortunate that it had to happen over the summer the way it did. Malcolm would call and check on him often, but the calls had diminished to extreme infrequency over the last couple of months.

 

Anti rarely bothered him much anymore, and that concerned Jack. Perhaps the deity was giving him time to properly mourn. He would still go out with Mark on occasion, but even that had slowed down quite a bit. Anti’s taunts and torment had grown rare, almost compassionate, as Jack progressed through therapy and learned to live with himself again.

 

With November came skies that darkened early and the warning “chill” of an L.A. winter. The patrons at the The Busy Bean liked to come in toward the later afternoon hours for a warm cider or hot chocolate if the air was particularly nippy. Jack was always happy to oblige, and the customers loved his warm smile and chipper attitude.

 

Jack was wiping down the main countertop one evening before closing, focusing intently on a plethora of sticky spots from the sugary frappés, when he heard someone tapping on the huge glass windows of the shop. Glancing up, he saw Mark standing there, hands in the pockets of his overcoat, his black hair shaved close on the sides and perfectly coifed on top. The Irishman grinned, throwing the cleaning rag onto his shoulder, and made his way toward the door.

 

They had a seat at one of the outside dining tables beneath a colorful umbrella.

 

“I know this is probably not something you’d wanna do,” his vampire friend said, “but, if you would like to come to the Harvest this year, that’d be fun.” He flashed white teeth at Jack, whose blue eyes drifted off to stare at nothing. Jack exhaled a cleansing breath.

 

“I mean, it’s not like I’m doin’ anything anyways,” he answered calmly. “Not sure what Amber was gonna do. Maybe go to Kansas.”

 

Mark’s eyebrows narrowed. “Thanksgiving is next week. How do you guys not already know your plans?”

 

Jack shrugged, glancing down between the wooden slats of the dining table.

 

“Regardless, you are always invited to spend your holiday with me and my family. Er—I guess, _your_ family, soon enough.”

 

Jack no longer cringed at the inevitable.

 

“Have you told your parents yet?” the human asked. “About the Ancients?”

 

Mark shook his head. “Nope. We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”

 

“I think you mean we’ll _cross_ that bridge.”

 

“I don’t really wanna cross that bridge, honestly.”

 

“ _Mark_.”

 

“ _Okayyy_!”

 

Jack laughed then, his eyes sparkling. “Yeah, I’ll come to Harvest with ya. Since I missed last year, an’ all.”

 

The vampire’s face lit up. “Yay!” he exclaimed. “Ma’s gonna be so happy to see you.”

 

“And Gianna,” Jack replied, rolling his eyes.

 

“Gianna’s _always_ happy to see you.” Mark playfully raised his eyebrows in a suggestive manner and did his best “bedroom eyes” for Jack, who shuddered at the idea.

 

“Yikes,” the green-haired man whispered under a chuckle. Jack had narrowly avoided a particularly awkward encounter with the teenaged vampire girl when he visited Mark’s family last April for Mark’s birthday. She had over-indulged in some strong whisky and got a little too comfortable with Jack. Ingram stopped her before she began taking off her clothes, luckily.

 

“Mark!” The feminine voice floated from across the street. Jack glanced over to see a Latina woman trotting across the road, a huge smile on her face. The Irishman turned to scowl at Mark, who pretended like he didn’t see his friend’s disappointment.

 

“Hello, lovely,” Mark purred in his silken baritone as Karina leaned down to peck him on the cheek.

 

“Hello, mi amor,” she answered. “Hi, Jack!”

 

“’Sup,” Jack offered, feigning sincerity. “How are you?”

 

Karina shrugged. “Doing okay. Don’t have to work tonight, so that’s good.” She turned to Mark quickly. “I have an idea for dinner!”

 

“What’s that?” the Korean asked, finding it very difficult to keep his eyes from trailing lower than her face.

 

“There’s this new crêpes place that just opened up on Broadway,” she answered, her voice rising in pitch. It always seemed to happen whenever she wanted something.

 

“And you wanna go?” Mark finished for her. She nodded excitedly, bouncing in her high heeled boots.

 

“Pretty please?” she begged. “We can find _you_ a nice meal if you’d like. And maybe you can share with me?”

 

Jack’s face burned bright red and he looked down, studying the lines in the wooden table.

 

“Hmm,” Mark responded, his eyes darkening at the thought. “It’s been a while since we’ve done that.” His honeyed voice dripped with promise and it made Karina weak in the knees.

 

“You drink the blood, too?” Jack questioned in a small voice. Karina burst out laughing.

 

“¡Dios mío, no! I’m not _that_ crazy in bed. I just have fun with her and he has a little more than just a taste.”

 

Mark winked at Jack from across the table. The Irishman stood hastily, nearly flipping his chair over.

 

“Well, I’m gonna go finish cleanin’,” he announced. “Mark, call me later and we’ll talk about…that thing.”

 

“I don’t think you’re gonna want me to call later,” Mark chuckled evilly.

 

“Fuck!” Jack yelled. “Whatever!” He stormed back into the shop as the vampire and the stripper laughed at his embarrassment.

 

The next weekend, Jack and Mark chatted idly over champagne and blood, blending in with the vampires surrounding them. Anti had promised that he wouldn’t ruin Jack’s final Harvest as a human. In fact, it felt almost like his presence was muted entirely in Jack’s brain. It made him feel uneasy—as if at any moment, Anti could roar to life and take control of Jack to destroy the evening.

 

“So…Amber,” Mark began, his voice louder to be heard over the music. “What’d she do for Thanksgiving?”

 

“Her mom came in,” Jack yelled back, taking a sip of his champagne. “I got to spend some time there.”

 

“What’s she doing tonight?” the Korean-German asked. Before Jack could answer, the Irishman was forcibly grabbed from behind, nearly making him spill his drink in the process.

 

“Gotcha,” the voice of Gianna murmured against his ear. Jack turned to see the young vampire in a pretty black corset-style dress, almost like some attempt to make her seem older than a teenager.

 

“Gianna!” Jack exclaimed. The champagne had loosened him up enough that he wasn’t thinking about the awkward moment with her from several months before. He stood to embrace her tiny, cold frame. “You look great!”

 

“Thanks!” she giggled. Her hair was darker, with streaks of blue running through the waves. “You look…okay.”

 

Jack scoffed. “Right.”

 

Ingram walked up to the table then, donned in his traditional Arabic dress clothes.

 

“Brother,” he greeted, nodding at Mark. “And…human.” His acknowledgement of Jack was much less amicable.

 

“Ingram, come on,” Gianna scolded. “Leave Jack alone.”

 

The Saudi Arabian rolled his eyes. “We don’t all have a crush on him, _Gianna_ ,” he spat before wheeling on Jack. “How many times have you attended Harvest now? Three?”

 

The Irishman was speechless as he sipped on his champagne.

 

“Yeah, three,” Mark answered for him. “Don’t worry about things that don’t concern you, Ingram.”

 

“And how many of those times,” Ingram continued, ignoring his brother, “were you a _vampire_ attending the _vampire_ Harvest?”

 

Jack pursed his lips, holding up a hand to dramatically count on his fingers, a puzzled expression on his face.

 

“Uhh…wait,” Jack said. “What was the question again?”

 

Frustrated, Ingram growled and stormed away. Gianna and Jack shared a knowing look and laughed together. Mark shook his head.

 

Lucien later addressed the crowd with the same formalities that Mark had practically memorized by now. Jack had never quite understood how it was always the Morelock family that was tasked with running the entire event, but he was sure it had something to do with the fact that they were the first blood vampire family, direct from Malachi.

 

After the performative aspects were finished, the slaughter-chain of humans was corralled out of a back room. Jack and Mark moved closer to the spectacle. Typically, a Morelock vampire had no place in the dirty ritual of performing the sacrifice, aside from the stunt Mark was forced to pull thanks to Anti a couple of years before. This year, however, Ingram was part of the parade, and he had his hands on the shoulders of a pale redhead whose face was shrouded by her hair.

 

As the humans lined up along the giant blood tub and were forced to their knees, Ingram pulled the redhead’s hair away from her face to reveal her neck.

 

Jack saw, to his horror, that it was Amber’s face, her pale blue eyes glazed over in a trance as she stared right through him.

 

Mark’s entire body tensed, his instinct to attack kicking in.

 

Lucien called for the vampires to be at the ready, claws out on the jugular of each human in their clutches.

 

Jack was completely frozen in fear, his eyes huge as he watched helplessly. Ingram’s claw tapped impatiently on Amber’s neck, and Lucien gave the order to slice.

 

Mark leapt across the tub, a roar erupting from his throat unlike any Jack had ever heard. He tackled Ingram to the ground, and Amber slumped forward, her body limp and hanging halfway into the tub.

 

The other vampires stopped what they were doing to stare in bewilderment at Mark and Ingram.

 

“What…the fuck…are you _doing_?!” Ingram cried from beneath his brother.

 

“Where did you get her?!” the Korean yelled, ignoring the growing tension in the room.

 

“What…what are you talking about?” Ingram thrashed wildly, trying to get to his feet. “She came to the Harvest with the others!”

 

“You’re _lying_!” A set of sharp claws slashed Ingram’s face, tearing his head scarf to shreds and staining it with blood.

 

Rage boiled in the Saudi’s eyes, and he shrieked, kicking Mark off of him so hard that he flew back across to the other side of the tub.

 

“I’m not _lying_ ,” Ingram spat. “She was with the group.”

 

“What is the meaning of this, Marquinhos?” Lucien asked, disappointment and confusion shrouding his voice. He had practically teleported from his position on the stairs to where Mark lay on the ground.

 

“That girl,” Mark groaned, stumbling to his feet. “Why was she with the group?”

 

“Why do you care so much?” Lucien retorted.

 

“I—“

 

It was then that Mark realized that he was truly, deeply, in great trouble.

 

He looked around cautiously, turning in a complete circle to stare at the wondering eyes of his vampire counterparts, his stance guarded and prepared to lash out. Ingram stood, dusting off his dress clothes and trying to straighten his torn keffiyeh.

 

“Well?” Lucien grew more impatient by the second as Mark hesitated. The Korean’s eyes finally fell on Jack, who stood stock-still, mouth agape at the turn of events that had unfolded.

 

“Why was she with the group?” Mark asked again, more calmly.

 

Lucien’s eyes narrowed and he cocked his head to one side. “I don’t know, my son. You know how this goes. These people come willingly, or they’re given to us by the prison system. They _want_ to die, or they _have_ to die.”

 

Mark’s eyes met Jack’s, frustration unfolding on the Irishman’s brow.

 

“But…why would…?” Jack couldn’t finish his thought.

 

“You still didn’t answer the question, Mark,” Lucien warned. “Why is the girl important?”

 

“She’s your lover.” Amelia appeared out of nowhere next to Jack, her gentle realization a stark contrast to the ongoing confrontation.

 

Lucien turned on Jack. “Is this true?”

 

The human gulped, sweat forming on his brow. “Erm. Yes.”

 

Ingram’s face cracked into a wicked smile.

 

“Oh, gods,” Amelia sighed. “Oh, this will not do.”

 

“Does she know our secret, Marquinhos?” his father asked him.

 

Knowing that he was backed into a corner, Mark chose to be honest. “Yes.”

 

There was chatter throughout the room as the vampires continued to watch the entire ordeal. Amber’s body remained slumped over the tub.

 

“Marquinhos…” Lucien was at a loss for words. “I’m so very disappointed.”

 

“You knew the risk we were taking with you bringing Jack here unturned,” Amelia said calmly. “The difference there is that Jack will become a vampire eventually. This girl will not.”

 

“I know, Ma,” Mark answered, defeat in his tone.

 

“I mean, clearly, she wishes to be dead,” Ingram’s voice cut through the softness of their conversation. “Why else would she be here? Unless she’s a felon.”

 

“She’s not—“ Jack started harshly, then backed off when Ingram’s sharp eyes pierced through him. “She’s not a felon. I have no idea why she would’a come here.”

 

“Well, she’s already on the chopping block now,” Lucien said nonchalantly. “Might as well get it over with.”

 

“No.” Mark was stern and powerful with his command. His father turned to him slowly.

 

“ _Excuse_ me?” the Latino vampire questioned.

 

“We’re gonna take her home,” Mark told him firmly. “This was a mistake. She didn’t know what she was doing.”

 

“Mark, _please_ ,” Amelia begged, sadness in her eyes. “Please don’t do this.”

 

“Marquinhos, I’ve _had it_ with your foolishness,” Lucien barked. “First you bring your protégée here as a human for, what, three years now? Four? And now _this_. I really don’t know what to say anymore, but...if you walk out that door with her, I’d better _never_ see you again.”

 

The words stung Mark to his core, and he fought the urge to attack his own father in a blind rage.

 

“But it’s my fault!” Jack cried out of nowhere. “Don’t blame Mark, she’s _my_ girlfriend. I did this! Not him.”

 

“And _you_ ,” the vampire father targeted Jack. “I had better read in _The Prophecy_ that you’ve been turned, and soon.”

 

Jack was quiet, the older vampire’s warning making his blood curdle.

 

“Make your choice, my son,” Lucien told the Korean.

 

Mark hesitated, glancing back and forth between his parents—the family that had loved and accepted him for the last two hundred years—and his protégé—the best friend he’d ever had, who taught him how to be a human again. Much to Jack’s dismay, Mark’s choice wasn’t immediately clear, and he couldn’t deny that it hurt him.

 

After what felt like eternity, Mark stormed over to the porcelain tub and threw Amber over his shoulders, heading for the door without turning back.

 

Jack followed, giving a final glance back at the Morelock family. Ingram was grinning while Lucien seethed with unbridled anger. Amelia shook her head in disappointment. Gianna’s makeup ran down her face from her tears.

 

Jack felt his own heart breaking as he turned back to follow Mark, not sure if he would ever see the family again. 

 

Amber regained her consciousness after several hours, and Jack waited by her bedside until she jolted upright, panting uncontrollably.

 

“I’m here, I’m here,” he coaxed, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her close to him.

 

“What?” she asked once her head became clear. “Why am I here…?” Stella and Moxy stood in the doorway of her bedroom, giving her some space but making sure she was okay.

 

“You ended up at the Harvest,” Jack told her, frowning. “But…it’s okay. ‘Cause we saved you. Mark and I got you out o’ there.”

 

Amber’s eyebrows knit together as she slowly realized what had happened. “Why did you do that?”

 

Jack was stunned. “What? Why did we _save_ you?”

 

“I went there on purpose.”

 

There was an unholy silence. Stella, unsure as to what the “Harvest” or any of this actually was, grabbed Moxy by the collar and led her downstairs to give the two some privacy.

 

The green-haired man could hardly form words. “Why?” he asked after some time.

 

Amber sighed, tears forming in her eyes. “I just…” She gripped her sheets in her fists and clenched her jaw. “I don’t wanna live without you, Seán.” The redhead began to cry softly, and Jack’s demeanor changed as he watched the tears fall. “I thought that…it would be easier for you. If I did this now…so that…you could just become a vampire…and not worry about leaving me behind.” Ashamed, she hid her face in her knees.

 

“Oh,” Jack breathed as he pulled her impossibly closer. “Oh, little bird. Please don’t do that. I know you’ll miss me when I’m turned, and there will be a part o’ me that will miss you terribly as well. But…when I’m gone, I want you to keep on living. Okay?” He grabbed her cheeks in his gentle hands and forced her eyes to meet his. “You have _so much_ to live for. I want to see you thrive. An’ you’ll meet someone one day who’s…smarter, an’ funnier, an’…at _least_ half as sexy as I am.” He laughed at his own joke and Amber managed to crack a smile.

 

“I don’t know…” she whispered sadly. “I don’t wanna do this without you.”

 

“I don’t wanna do it at all,” Jack answered. “But, it’s just how it be.”

 

“I’m sorry I turned myself in to the Harvest,” she responded. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry you had to find out like that.”

 

“What, that your little suicide mission didn’t go exactly as planned?” His voice was teasing, but his heart still felt heavy for the reality of the situation.

 

Amber laughed hollowly. “Yeah.” A brief pause. “And I know…how much you’ve lost lately. I was acting really selfishly. It was very cruel. I feel terrible.”

 

“Well,” Jack said, changing the subject and taking his dress shirt and tie off. “We got the entire next month to do stuff. Just you an’ me. And Mark every now an’ then, I guess.”

 

He pulled the sheets back to make room for himself in her bed after taking off his pants. He playfully scooched into her to make her giggle before nestling down into the warmth. She followed suit and got under the blankets with him, resting her head on his chest to listen to his heartbeat while she still had the chance.

 

At his townhouse, Mark emptied the contents of a decade-old bottle of scotch into his Waterford glass. Sipping slowly, feeling the burn of the liquor all the way down his throat, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

 

“Babe…” Karina’s lovely voice chirped from his bed. “Are you coming, or not?”

 

He couldn’t shake his feeling of anger—at his father, at his brother, at himself. Even somewhat at Amber, although the poor girl could hardly be blamed. But not at Jack. Never at Jack. He couldn’t reason, in his current state of mind, as to why that was.

 

“Mark?” Worry crept into the Latina’s voice as she called again.

 

The vampire stood, stumbling from the booze, and steadied himself against the table. His jaw worked on overdrive, teeth grinding fiercely against each other. He staggered into his bedroom, eyes already adjusting to the darkness, to see his vixen spread naked on his bed. He inhaled the scent of her perfume, her sex, her blood, a grin affixed to his lips.

 

“There you are,” Karina moaned. “Wanna solve all your problems with me…?”

 

His gaze made her uneasy, though it was hard to see his eyes in the dark. Mark crawled on top of her like a cat, reveling in the warmth of her skin, not stopping to lather her with kisses. His eyes stared deep into hers, and she was…afraid. He looked at her like he wanted to _eat_ her.

 

“Hey,” she said, laughing nervously. “Everything okay?”

 

Mark smiled, fangs visible in the dim light of the moon shining through the window.

 

“No.”

 

He struck, biting into her jugular, and she screamed in agony and fear. He wasn’t sending the pleasure through her with his bite like he normally did, and he wasn’t slowing down as he fed. His strong hands held her down to the bed, and she yelled at him, begged him to stop, tears streaming down her cheeks.

 

Her blood scorched him, igniting his insides as he drank. Karina’s cries of agony grew more and more quiet until there was silence.

 

He didn’t stop until she was cold and her lifeless brown eyes stared into the abyss that she would call her eternal home.

 

Mark sat by her body all night, waiting for the sun to shine on the situation so that maybe he could get some clarity. Blood was dried in streaks from his lips to his chin as he stared out the window. Finally sobering up, he wondered why he didn’t feel remorse for her. At the forefront of his brain was Jack, and Mark jumped through mental hoop after mental hoop trying to figure out what he was going to tell his friend about this.

 

Maybe he wouldn’t tell him at all.   

 

As dawn broke over the horizon, he determined that it was time to dig a grave.


	22. Not Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Swim with me  
> I think I could see the beach  
> I know what's underneath  
> I need you here with me,  
> But we're out in the open.  
> Swim with me  
> I think I could see the beach  
> Just don't look underneath us  
> I need you here with me,  
> But we're out in the open."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'sup fuckos, hope everyone is having a gr8 2018 so far. I got to see Mark on the You're Welcome Tour and he acknowledged my existence and it was honestly such a great time. AnYwAy here's a chapter that's a little shorter but WE'RE GETTING CLOSER

The deaths of Mary and Danny McLoughlin were officially written-off as a double-suicide and the case was closed. Jack chose to not pay particular attention to the details when the coroner and chief investigator visited him at his home one afternoon in late December. His mind wandered to happier, healthier places while they droned on about the hellish nightmare he thought he had escaped. Since there was no security footage, and no fingerprints found at the scene, there was really nowhere else to go.

 

Hours after they had left, Jack felt empty. Despite being heavily medicated, he wanted to feel… _something_. Anything but emptiness.

 

Anti remained respectfully quiet, but ever present, in the back of his mind.

 

Amber would be showing up soon, he reasoned as he glanced at the clock. They had dinner plans with her mother and brother, who were in town for the week of Christmas. Jack recalled that this time last year, he was freezing his ass off in a glacier with a bunch of ancient vampires who wanted nothing more than for his heart to stop pumping.

 

He had conveniently forgotten to inform his significant other about the unwanted visitation from earlier in the day. He wished _he_ could conveniently forget anything about it. His parents were rotting in the ground in Athlone. He was still here, still alive.

 

For now.

 

Being around people made Jack feel complete. His psychiatrist had increased his dosage of antidepressants, which helped immensely, but something was still missing. Therapy attempted to fill in the holes that the medication left behind, but even still, Jack desired more. He spent more time with people, with his loved ones. He spent more time with Mark. He was vibrant with them around, but when everyone would leave him, the emptiness returned. Like a gnawing hunger, it ached within him, but he couldn’t even force himself to be sad. And so, he pressed on.

 

One of Amber’s final requests was to visit Long Beach for the New Year’s Eve fireworks display aboard the regal Queen Mary. Jack had worked hard to save his earnings from the coffee shop to take her on the cruise, but had fallen short at the last minute. Instead, they planned to go out to the beach together to see the fireworks from the sand.

 

Mark had come with them. They found a beachside resort that Mark paid for himself. He begged Jack to let him give him the money that he needed to take Amber on the cruise, but the Irishman refused his help. The vampire made up for it by getting them an enormous room to themselves while he stayed in a suite alone for the evening. He was alone on his bed, lying on his side while he stared out the window to watch the stars come out from behind the clouds.

 

There was a knock at the Korean’s door. He rose from the silken sheets like a corpse coming back to life, stoically throwing on an over shirt before walking over to glance through the peephole.

 

Jack stood alone, waiting impatiently. Mark unlocked the door and let his friend in.

 

“Hey,” Jack greeted hurriedly. “We’re gonna take this huge blanket out onto the beach and watch the fireworks from there. You’re welcome to come.” He unfurled the fabric to reveal a _Star Wars_ themed blanket.

 

Mark shuffled his way to a reclining chair, plopping down heavily. “I’ll see them from here.” The vampire gazed out the window, an emptiness in his eyes that reflected how he felt in his heart.

 

Defeated, Jack’s shoulders slumped as he dropped his blanket and sat down on Mark’s bed, facing his friend in the chair.

 

“This is all really difficult,” the human said after some time. “I mean, I have to…you have to…” He couldn’t bring himself to complete his train of thought.

 

“I know what has to be done.” Mark’s smooth baritone was ominous.

 

“You’re not… _sad_ about it, are you?” 

 

The Korean chuckled once. “Not sad.”

 

“ _I’m_ not sad about it.” Jack smiled proudly.

 

“You’re not sad about _anything_. They’ve got you so drugged up you’re barely a person.”

 

“Hey!” Jack snapped, a look of hurt on his face.

 

“Shit…” the vampire sighed, his hand covering his face. “Shit. I didn’t mean that. I really didn’t.”  

 

“It’s okay,” Jack offered, his grin returning. “You’re kind o’ not wrong. But you’re also super wrong at the same time.”

 

“I don’t know anything about being a person, anyway,” Mark answered. “So, who am I to judge?”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack spotted a nearly-empty liquor bottle next to the flat screen TV.

 

“You’re drunk?” he questioned, eyes piercing through Mark’s soul. “We’ve been here for two hours.”

 

Mark shrugged, a huge, theatrical motion. “I was thirsty.”

 

“You’ve been…drunk a lot.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Breaking up with that stripper is literally the worst thing that’s happened, according to every bar in L.A.” Jack joked. Mark bit his tongue, tasting cold iron.

 

“Yeah, she…” He stood, swaying slightly from inebriation, as he made his way to the enormous window that overlooked the beach. “She’s moved on.”

 

Jack knew nothing about what had happened with Karina, but Anti knew. In fact, it was Anti who came out that morning to help Mark bury the poor girl.

 

“What do you plan on doing, vampire?” the god had sneered, forcing a shovel into the dirt. “Keeping this a secret from Jack?”

 

“Why should I bother him with this?” Mark asked. “It would just upset him. She’s the only one I’ve killed in a really long time.”

 

“After _everything_ ,” Anti growled, shoveling faster and more aggressively than before. “I fucking covered your ass for a year. I went with you to the clubs, I _helped_ you. I helped _them_ forget so they could move on with their lives. And you just—what? Got a little peckish? Just couldn’t keep your fangs to yourself, bloodsucker?”

 

“Shut up and keep digging,” Mark answered, his voice monotone. “I don’t need this right now.”

 

“Well, wherever she is,” Jack began, pulling Mark out of his head, “I’m sure she’s havin’ a hell of a lot more fun than you are tonight.”

 

Despite himself, the vampire smiled. “I hope so.”

 

He didn’t believe in heaven or hell, but if there was an afterlife, he hoped that Karina made it to paradise. His heart felt a pang of realization as he pondered over where _he_ might go, but he was afraid he already knew the answer.

 

“Come on,” Jack prompted, kicking his feet toward Mark’s direction. “Get dressed. Use mouthwash. Maybe take a shower. Come outside and watch the fireworks.”

 

“You and Amber need your time,” he replied sadly. “I don’t want to intrude.”

 

“You’re not intruding, dumbass! I’m invitin’ you to come. Amber would love if you did, too.”

 

Mark sighed deeply, throwing his head back in an agonized groan of frustration. He turned on his heel, face-planted into the bed, and didn’t move.

 

Jack’s mouth twisted in confusion as he opted to pry Mark from his new home in the sheets, pushing with all his might to turn the immortal over.

 

“Get. _Up_!” Realizing he was fighting a losing battle, he stopped trying, collapsing into a pillow on the opposite side of the king-sized bed.

 

A muffled voice came from the vampire. Jack pushed himself up onto his elbow, lying on his side.

 

“What did you just say?” the human asked, annoyed.

 

Mark lifted his head long enough to speak. “Amber is gonna leave you here and she’s gonna see the fireworks alone.” He dropped his head back into the covers. 

 

“ _Fine_.” Jack arose from the bed, collecting his blanket and wadding it up into a ball of fleece. “I’m comin’ back here after, though.”

 

“No shit,” Mark scoffed, sitting up slowly. “I have to turn you.”

 

“Not what I meant…” Again, the green-haired man noticed the liquor bottle. “I guess we gotta get some more alcohol, huh?”

 

“I have to turn you once you’re back.”

 

“You really think the Ancients are gonna be pissy if you miss their deadline by a few hours? We have to get Amber…away from me.”

 

The German-Korean shrugged, stumbling over to pour more poison into a glass. “I suppose they won’t mind if we delay for a little bit.” He sipped slowly, studying Jack over the rim of the glass. “Wouldn’t be great if you ate your girlfriend first thing.”

 

Jack snickered and Mark rolled his eyes.

 

“You’re a child,” the vampire chastised.

 

Jack found Amber alone on the beach, wrapped up in a blanket of her own as she dipped her toes in the tide.

 

“You’re alive!” she cried, her smile beaming in the moonlight.

 

“Yep…still here.” He threw the blanket out over the sand, being careful not to smother any hermit crabs in the process. Amber sat carefully and Jack took a seat next to her, pulling her into him. Her hair whipped around in the wind, tickling Jack’s nose and getting in his mouth. It wasn’t the most graceful scene, but he liked the smell of her shampoo. The taste, however, he could do without.

 

Amber kept sporadically checking the clock, tapping her fingernails on her phone screen impatiently.

 

“Somethin’ wrong?” Jack asked.

 

“Hmm-mm.” The red-haired girl shook her head unconvincingly.

 

“You’d better tell me!” the Irishman teased, shaking her shoulder as he held her tighter.

 

“Nothing is wrong.” He could tell she wanted to burst with energy, but didn’t feel like pressing the matter any further.

 

He kept seeing her phone screen light up over and over. “It’s almost midnight,” she whispered.

 

“I know,” he whispered back.

 

A stillness in the air sent chills down Jack’s spine. Amber inhaled deeply before spilling whatever was inside her head. “I don’t want to lose you.”

 

Jack closed his eyes, pulling Amber even closer to remind her of his warmth. “I’m right here.”

 

She shook her head, pushing her face into his chest as she fought back tears. “Not forever.”

 

“Nobody’s here forever…” He was trying to reassure himself.

 

“Not the point.” Her voice broke and the tears streamed down her cheeks.

 

“Hey, hey, don’t cry, little bird,” the green-haired man cooed. “Look, it’s nearly midnight. You’re gonna miss the fireworks.”

 

The redhead sniffled and sat up, wiping her face with her blanket.

 

“I need a New Year’s kiss,” she told him.

 

The fireworks shot upwards, exploding in the dark sky as the clock struck twelve and Jack kissed Amber feverishly, deeply, with a love that she would never in her lifetime forget. He pulled away from her, holding her cheeks in his soft hands, the brilliant blues-and-reds of the fireworks illuminating her angelic glow.

 

“Seán,” she started, taking his hands in hers. “There’s…” She swallowed dryness out of her mouth, unsure of how to continue.

 

“What?” he asked, panic beginning to set in. “What’s wrong?”

 

She gave him a look he had never seen before. Somewhere between “grave” and “defiant.” His soul grew cold. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

 

Mark was obliterated, searching his belongings for a spare blood bag to offset the liquor in his system. The room was trashed with empty bottles from the mini bar. He really should have thought about getting something to eat before he decided to drink himself to unconsciousness. He soon found himself sprawled out on the bed, wearing just his boxers, calling room service to bring him more to drink.

 

A dark-haired boy showed up at the door, younger than Jack, with a bottle of whisky and a new glass on a silver serving tray. Mark had made the effort to at least put on pants before answering the knock.

 

“Room service, sir,” the boy announced proudly. “You requested the top-shelf, so I brought only the best.” Mark groggily reached for the bottle, the letters swirling wildly as he struggled to read it.

 

Sensing Mark’s troubles, the boy remembered his manners. “It’s Bowmore’s Mizunara Cask Finish, sir. The finest of top-shelf we serve here.”

 

Mark’s dark eyes fell on the boy and he smiled hungrily. “Would you mind to come inside and…help me with the arrangements?” His pale hand gestured grandly into the room. “I have a date this evening.”

 

Taken aback, the boy tried to find his words. “Er—of…of course!” The boy, whose name tag read “Hunter,” stepped inside and Mark slowly closed the door.

 

“I appreciate your help, very much.” The vampire’s voice was in one of the lowest of his registers, partly due to being so drunk, but also because he couldn’t help himself when he was this hungry.

 

“It’s no problem, sir,” Hunter told him as he began to open the bottle and pour a little into the new glass he had brought upstairs as well as the glass Mark had been married to all evening. “That’s what I’m here for.”

 

“Good to know.”

 

Hunter finished setting up the drinks, running around clumsily to pick up the empty airplane bottles and tossing them into the trash. He looked around, admiring his handiwork.

 

“Looks like that’s it for now,” the boy told Mark. He turned to face the vampire, who stood in the shadows of a corner of the room, his eyes dark and foreboding. Hunter took an instinctual step back. “Is there…anything else I can help you with…sir?”

 

A grin played at the corners of Mark’s mouth, and he twisted his neck to one side and then the other, a loud _pop_ erupting from his vertebrae. Once adjusted, he shook his head slightly, playfully, as his canines elongated in his mouth.

 

“Yes,” he answered grimly, moving at lightning speed toward the frightened boy. “I need you to hold still…and be very quiet.” He opened his mouth wide, slicing easily through the boy’s skin with his fangs.

 

The clock struck twelve, and Mark assumed the lovebirds outside were finished with their soiree under the moon. He knew Jack would be coming back inside soon. He knew that he was going to have to turn him. Mark sipped slowly on the whisky that the hotel’s help had brought to him, leaning back on a tower of pillows on the bed. He looked over at the boy—at Hunter—slouched over in the chair.

 

Hunter wasn’t dead. Not quite, anyway. He was in need of a blood transfusion, and would likely die if he didn’t receive medical attention, but at least he had a chance to live. The Korean had the decency to call an ambulance, hoping to get him out of the room as quickly as possible. Mark was no longer hungry. He wasn’t sure if he was going to feel like feeding on Jack.

 

A groan came from the boy’s throat, and Mark moved swiftly to his side, placing his empty glass on the dresser. As Hunter came to, Mark held his face in his hands.

 

“You alright there, buddy?” the vampire asked, feigning concern. Hunter’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Wh—where…what happened?” He attempted to sit up but his head swam and he toppled back over into the chair. “Am I dead?”

 

“No, not quite,” Mark said. “You had a really nasty accident with a barbecue fork.”

 

“Barbecue…” Hunter attempted to recall, at any point this evening, wielding a barbecue fork in such a manner that he’d managed to gouge himself in the throat.

 

“You should get downstairs. An ambulance will be coming soon.”

 

Mark pulled the boy to his feet and rushed him toward the door. Hunter tried his best to walk on his own, but his head ached and he felt too weak to do anything by himself. Mark swung the door open wide to see Jack standing there, his hand in a closed fist, ready to rap on the door. His eyes fell on the stranger in Mark’s arms, then glanced at Mark, then back at the stranger, and so on for several seconds.

 

“Am I…interrupting something?” Jack questioned hesitantly.

 

“Poor kid stabbed himself with a—“ The Korean stopped, lost in his own head. “A…tuning fork?”

 

“You said ‘barbecue,’” Hunter corrected.

 

“Ah, yes, right-right-right,” Mark uttered quickly. “Barbecue fork. Anyway, an ambulance is on the way, if you’ll please get going.” The vampire pushed Hunter into the hallway, and the young boy fell onto the carpeted floor, another pained groan escaping him. He crawled his way toward the stairs while Jack looked onward, trying not to appear horrified at the scenario. The Irishman turned back to Mark.

 

“I need to talk to you,” Jack said forcefully, pushing his way into Mark’s room and slamming the door behind him.

 

“I swear to God, I wasn’t gonna kill him.” Mark held his hands up in surrender and awaited Jack’s wrath.

 

“What? No, that’s not—“ Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “Something’s come up. We can’t do the transformation yet.”

 

“The fuck do you _mean_ , ‘we can’t do the transformation yet?’” the dark-haired man snapped. “I told you we’d wait until Amber wasn’t around.”

 

“That’s not it,” his human friend spat, clearly distressed. “Mark, I can’t become a vampire at this point in my life.”

 

“What the hell, Jack?! You heard what the Ancients said!”

 

“ _Amber’s pregnant_!”

 

Mark stopped, his words caught in his throat. Every muscle in his body felt as tense as the atmosphere. Both friends stared at each other for a long time, each expecting the other to say something that might ease the tension.

 

“I…” the vampire managed. “I’m…I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Let me live long enough to see my baby,” Jack begged. “Please.”

 

“That’s too long, I think.” The Korean calculated in his sobering brain that it would have to be at the very least nine months away.

 

“She’s already two months,” Jack answered. “She just found out the other day when she didn’t get her period for the second month in a row. I had no idea. She kept it a secret until tonight.”

 

“You guys didn’t—I dunno—use protection?” He felt almost like a father for asking.

 

“She was on birth control,” the human retorted.

 

“She took it regularly enough that it would be effective?”

 

The Irishman didn’t have an immediate answer for that.

 

“Look,” Jack sighed. “I know this is really out o’ left field. Maybe I can contact the Ancients.” He pulled out his phone. “Do they have a number I can, like, text?”

 

Mark stared blankly at his friend.

 

“Okay, maybe an address? For snail mail?”

 

Again, no answer from Mark.

 

Jack racked his brain for other ideas. “…Carrier pigeon?”

 

A sigh escaped Mark, one that expelled relief more so than frustration. He knew in his heart that he didn’t want to turn Jack tonight, and was looking for any excuse to get out of it. The Ancients weren’t going to be happy at all, but they never were. Mark hoped the punishment for his disloyalty wouldn’t be too severe.

 

“Let’s just…deal with that when it comes,” the immortal suggested. “Hell, it’s already been almost four years since you were supposed to be turned. What’s a few more months?”  

 

“Mark, you’re seriously the best,” Jack exclaimed, throwing his arms around his friend and kissing him on the cheek. “I really hope you don’t get in any trouble.”

 

Confused by the sudden overwhelming emotion from Jack, Mark carefully wrapped his arms around him, and felt secure in their mutual warmth. He inhaled the scent of Jack’s skin, his mouth watering despite the fact that he had just fed. He fought everything in him to not rip Jack’s throat open right then and there, concerned by the hunger that was fogging his brain.

 

It was going to be a long year.


	23. Maria Katherine McLoughlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can't help myself but count the flaws  
> Claw my way out through these walls  
> One temporary escape  
> Feel it start to permeate  
> We lie beneath the stars at night  
> Our hands gripping each other tight  
> You keep my secrets, hope to die  
> Promises, swear them to the sky."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> henlo hehe! what's up babes. we are getting somewhere now. there isn't much longer to wait until vamp!jack hooray!

**2016**

 

Every single day was torment for Mark as he awaited the dreaded summons back to Riiser-Larsen. His eyes were constantly trained on the door, an overwhelming worry corrupting his every thought, hoping not to hear a knock from one of the confidants.

 

It was February and they never came.

 

It was February, nearing Jack’s birthday, an entire month having already gone by in the new year, and still…nothing. The Ancients remained horrifyingly silent on the matter.

 

This could not mean anything good.

 

Every single day he was around Jack, he wanted to drink his blood. He couldn’t remember the last time he had tasted it, and the mere scent of Jack’s skin was enough to make his mouth water. Since he wasn’t planning on turning Jack until after the baby was born, he was thinking he could convince his Irish friend to let him have a little snack once in a while—and it would show him more memories that he hadn’t yet seen.

 

Mark was locked in his office at the hospital one afternoon, trying to stave off his growing hunger with a pint of B negative from some faceless person in the past, when Jack barged through the door.

 

“God _dammit_ ,” Mark hissed through clenched teeth, every muscle in his body tense. “Why do you have to do that?”

 

“Sorry!” cried Jack, holding up his hands. “I didn’t mean t’ surprise you. Just thought I’d swing by.” 

 

“Excellent timing,” the vampire groaned sarcastically. He massaged his temples, acutely aware of a growing pain in his head and a dryness in his throat.

 

Jack took a seat across from Mark, seemingly in his own universe. Mark had to admit that the news of being a father lifted Jack’s spirits from the pit of despair he was in after his parents died. He liked seeing Jack happy and hopeful.

 

“I’m surprised I didn’t see that _bitch_ Dr. Keithann lurkin’ around,” Jack spat dismissively. “I’ve managed to avoid her so far.”

 

“She’s not a bitch because she fired you for breaking rules,” Mark said, taking another sip from his thermos.

 

“Sure, but she _is_ still generally a bitch.”

 

“Why are you here?” Mark’s dry response was a bit too quick and a little too anxious.

 

Jack scoffed. “Jeez, sorry. Didn’t realize I was intrudin’ on somethin.’” He stood to leave, but Mark held out his hand to stop him.

 

“No…no. Stay.” The Korean sighed heavily. “I’m just…really not in a great mood today.”

 

“Yeah, you’ve been actin’ super weird lately,” the green-haired man responded. “Are you okay? We haven’t hung out as much. I guess I’ve been spendin’ so much time with Amber. I grew a little distant.”

 

“I’m okay,” Mark lied. “I’m sorry I was snippy.”

 

“No big deal. Still nothing from the Ancients?”

 

Mark shook his head solemnly. “Nope.”

 

“…Do you need another night out?”

 

The idea intrigued the vampire. He hadn’t been out at all since New Year’s Eve, hadn’t had the taste of human blood straight from the vein since Hunter’s kind, albeit involuntary, gesture. He was attempting to eliminate humans from his diet and get back on the blood bags, but the taste was just…wrong. Quitting cold turkey seemed like a great idea at first, but now, Jack was sitting in front of him with those baby blue eyes and his goofy smile and his neck. His neck.

 

His neck.

 

It was pale, but not as pale as Mark’s skin. It was soft. It gave way easily to the sharp protrusion of Mark’s fangs. A small blemish or two dotted his neck, but Mark hardly considered them imperfections. They were part of what made him human. The thick blue artery pumped away at a normal pace, and Mark focused on the sound of his wet pulse and the gentle thump of his heart. The immortal licked his lips, pupils dilating as he focused on his target.

 

“…Mark?” Jack’s voice was distant, like he was standing at the other end of a tunnel, and it echoed in Mark’s aching head. “What are you—“

 

Only two seconds passed before Mark leapt across his desk, grabbed Jack by the throat, and lifted him from the chair to pin him to the ground. Two more seconds was all it took to turn his friend’s head to the side and sink his teeth in deep.

 

He was very careful, of course. Mark made sure to cover Jack’s mouth with his left hand while his right hand grabbed a fistful of green hair to hold his neck exactly where he wanted it. The first sip was somewhere between heaven and ecstasy, bordering on overpowering as he continued to gulp mouthful after mouthful of Jack’s precious life.

 

The human struggled beneath Mark, trying to push as hard as he could to get him off. He was growing weaker by the second, and his heart hammered in his ears as he feared the worst was yet to come.

 

“ _He’s not going to stop_ ,” Anti’s voice was soft in the back of his mind. “ _He will kill you._ ”

 

“I…I…” Jack stammered through Mark’s hand. “H—help…me…”

 

His veins went black and Mark pulled away in surprise, hot blood dripping from his lips as he attempted not to spill a drop. The headache had subsided and his thirst was sated, but he felt incredibly exhausted.

 

Immediately, Mark’s vision went white, as if he were about to see another memory from his human life. Instead, he saw flashes of shrieking, horrifyingly-disfigured people covered in blood, people he had never seen before, their eyes full of fear as they chanted the same thing over and over: _Your fault! Your fault! Your fault!_

 

As he came back to the present, he held his head, the vision in his brain nearly making him ill. He squinted through a haze to see Anti sitting straight up, black eyes staring back at him and his throat torn open.

 

“You almost did it that time, vampire,” the god warned.

 

“What…was that…?” the Korean whispered hoarsely. Anti grinned slowly.   

 

Mark’s eyes rolled backward and he collapsed on the floor.

 

Anti made an attempt to clean himself up with some disinfectant and gauze located in Mark’s desk drawers, taking the last bit of the blood left in the thermos. He grabbed a spare coat from Mark’s coat hanger, wrapping himself up to hide the bloodstains on his shirt collar, before heading out the door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The day of Jack’s birthday gathering approached quicker than he had wanted it to. Nearly stumbling up the stairs to Amber and Stella’s apartment, he mentally prepared himself as he began to turn the doorknob. The door opened with a haunting, annoying creak to a scene of chaos.

 

Stella held Amber in her arms on the couch, rocking back and forth and mumbling into her fiery hair. The redhead sobbed into her roommate’s shoulder, trying to hug her awkwardly from her sitting position. Moxy was licking her chops as she glanced upwards at the person who interrupted her from eating the birthday cake that was smashed on the floor.

 

Stella’s gaze found Jack, standing stock-still in the doorway, unsure as to whether or not he should come inside. Her blue hair was fading, dark roots showing almost as dark as the circles under the poor girl’s eyes.

 

“Look, there he is,” Stella whispered. Amber turned to face Jack, her makeup a mess and her eyes puffy.

 

“Babe…” was all that she managed before breaking into a fit again.

 

“Okay, okay, what’s happened?” the Irishman sighed, walking over to have a seat next to her. “Other than the cake, o’ course.”

 

“We spent _hours_ on that cake,” Amber cried. “And then I dropped it, so now Moxy’s eating it. And I feel really gross and ugly… _and_ look at this!”

 

She held out her wrist, revealing a simple sterling silver chain with a bird-shaped pendant attached, an onyx gemstone set in the middle of it.

 

“That’s beautiful, dear,” he offered softly. “What’s wrong with it?”

 

“Nothing!” She sniffled loudly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “My mom sent it to me in a package. It was Gramma’s. The bird is a nightingale. She said she…” Another brief crying fit. “She said…she got it from Gramma when she found out…she was going to be a mom…!”

 

Amber collided into Jack’s chest, taking the opportunity to shower him with tears and makeup and whatever else, while Stella quietly creeped away to clean up the rest of the cake from the floor.

 

“Ohhhhhhh— _kay_ ,” the green-haired father-to-be said, rubbing the small of her back while she wept. “So you’re just emotional, is all.”

 

A nod followed by a sniffle, and then quite possibly the most silence Stella had heard since Amber awoke this morning.

 

“I wish we could have found out the gender last time,” Amber said finally, sitting up straight to hold her tiny baby bump.

 

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, “but we are gonna love ‘em no matter what. Right?”

 

“I do already.” A warm glow in her tender smile made Jack’s heart melt, and she clutched her abdomen tighter.

 

There was a soft knock at the door. Stella glanced to Amber, who looked at Jack.

 

“I thought we weren’t expecting anyone else for several hours,” Stella thought aloud.

 

“Maybe it’s Mark!” Jack hopped up from the couch, eager to answer the door.

 

His remorseful vampire friend stood at the threshold of the apartment, wearing an apologetic smile and a suit jacket with khaki dress slacks. His deep brown eyes trailed downward to Jack’s neck, hidden beneath a striped scarf.

 

“Hey, Jack,” he greeted the human.

 

“Oh hi, Mark.”

 

Jack embraced him, warmly inviting him inside. Mark was taken aback by the kindness his friend was showing him. They hadn’t spoken since the incident in his office. He found out about the party through Amber. Cautiously, he crept inside, Moxy greeting him by licking his hand and wagging her tail happily.

 

His instinct to tear Jack’s throat out was still very much present in his mind, but he remembered the disturbing vision he had gained from his blood. He knew that right now, if he tried to turn Jack, he would kill him. He knew that, and he needed to get himself under control. The Ancients would understand. They would have to.

 

“How are you, Mark?” Amber asked, cutting his inner monologue short.

 

“Oh, I’m…” He looked over at her on the couch, still sniffling with a few stray tears running down her cheeks. “…I’m doing okay. How are you?”

 

She shrugged. “I’m really happy.”

 

Jack’s eyebrows knitted together and Stella’s mouth was agape.

 

“You literally just sat here and cried all day,” the blue-haired woman snapped.

 

“I’m happy because I get to be a _mom_ , Stella!” Tears welled up in her eyes again and her mouth twisted as she started to weep.

 

“Oh _Jesus_ ,” Stella groaned, stomping toward the kitchen with the dirty dishtowel she used to clean up the cake.

 

“Okay, hey, let’s calm down a little bit, yeah?” Jack’s soothing voice comforted her, and she eased into him like warm honey, shoulders still quaking every now and then from tiny sobs.

 

“Well, anyway,” Mark began, trying to ease the tense situation. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted for your birthday this year, Jack, but I do think I have an idea. You want to know the baby’s sex, right?”

 

Amber’s eyes lit up and she stared at Mark in excitement. Jack perked up as well.

 

“Y—yes,” Jack stammered. “Yes! That would be a great gift.”

 

The vampire grinned, pleased with himself. “Come with me to the lab.”

 

“Stella, you’ll be okay here for a bit, won’t you?” Amber called as Jack helped her get on her coat.

 

“I’ll be _perfect_ here by myself,” the young woman said, coming in to lie down on the couch with Moxy on her heels. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

 

Mark’s lab was always quiet and empty on Sunday afternoons. Amber sat slowly in the booth, feeling strange that she was on this side of the operations for once. Jack sat next to her, both able to comfortably fit in the double-seated blood-drawing chair, and held her hand.

 

The Korean had explained to them on the ride over that, in his years of experience and based on what Lucien had taught him, vampires can determine if a woman is pregnant simply by tasting her blood. The skill had been refined over the decades to include the sex of the baby as well.

 

Mark knelt down next to her, taking her other hand and flipping it over to expose her wrist.

 

“I’m just gonna do this the old fashioned way,” he told her, trying to calm her nerves with his silken voice. “We won’t waste time with needles and bags.”

 

Jack held his breath as he watched Mark move toward Amber’s wrist, mouth opening to reveal the sharp set of fangs that he placed on her vein. Amber squeezed her eyes shut as he sank into her skin, emitting a pained grunt upon his withdrawal of her blood. The Irishman held his girlfriend’s hand even tighter, sweating with nervous energy.

 

“I’m…glad Stella stayed behind,” Amber chuckled, trying to put her mind on any other subject. Jack forced a small laugh.

 

Mark pulled his teeth from her wrist, coated in a thick amount of crimson, and he did his best to seal the puncture wound shut. The clock seemed to stand still while Jack’s best friend fed from the mother of his child, but the dreadful ticking sound had resumed, yanking him back to reality.

 

Amber gently pulled away from Mark’s grasp, holding her wrist with the hand that she had taken from Jack’s. Two pairs of blue eyes gazed at the vampire, waiting for any news. It took him several moments, mulling over the taste of the residual blood coating his tongue, and he swallowed, opening his eyes that had faded back to his normal chocolate brown.

 

“It’s…” Mark began, eyebrows knitting together as he debated once more what the taste reminded him of. “A girl.”

 

The redhead sucked in a breath, her hand instinctually moving to her abdomen. Tears welled up in her swollen eyes again. Jack was silent, stunned as he absorbed the information.

 

“A girl…” the green-haired man repeated to himself. Amber’s energy exploded in delighted laughter as she hugged Jack close to her.

 

“A little girl!” Amber cried into his shoulder. “Little Maria Katherine McLoughlin.”

 

Jack’s smile grew huge as he wrapped his arms around her, trying not to squeeze too tightly. His own eyes glistened with tears. “Mary for short.” He knew his mother would have been so thrilled with the news that he was going to be a father. That he was going to have a family of his own.

 

Mark stood with Jack outside on the balcony of Amber and Stella’s apartment, drinks in hand as they glanced up toward the stars. Inside, Stella and Rochelle were finishing up another version of Jack’s birthday cake, playing a 2000’s pop radio station, while Amber talked to her mother on the phone about the news.

 

“I guess I never got to congratulate you,” the vampire said finally, not looking at his friend. “I really am very happy for you and Amber. You will make a great father.”

 

“But you have to turn me after she’s born,” Jack reminded him grimly. “I don’t really get to be a dad.”

 

“I suppose that’s true,” Mark answered before turning his head to smile at Jack. “Or, it would be true. If I planned on turning you at all.”

 

“What?!” Jack hissed, trying to lower his voice. “What the hell are you…you’re _not_ gonna sire me?”

 

“I’ve seen how happy this has made you,” the Korean answered. “I’ve _never_ seen you so thrilled for anything. I’ll take the blow from the Ancients. If they planned on doing anything, they probably would have done it by now.” He swallowed, the wind blowing the scent of Jack’s skin toward him. Mark shuddered and tried to think of anything else.

 

“Mark, come on,” the human pleaded, “you can’t do this. You’ll get in trouble. They could kill you.”

 

The dark-haired man shrugged, exhaling into the night. “I’ve had my time, you know? You need to take this as a blessing.”

 

“No,” Jack whispered in disbelief. “ _No_! You don’t get t’ sacrifice yourself for me. I won’t have it. You’re my best friend in the entire world. I can’t let you die for me.”

 

“You don’t need me in your life, Seán,” Mark said quietly. “All I’ve done for you is cause you trouble. I mean…I never even got to apologize to you for what happened last week in my office.”

 

“Don’t worry about that, Mark, please—“

 

“I could have killed you.”

 

Jack held his tongue, his brain going blank for any kind of response.

 

“But you didn’t,” the human said defiantly. “I’m _not_ lettin’ you do this. If this is your way of sayin’ you’re leavin’ L.A…then fine, do that, but I’ll find you. And you’ll turn me and fulfill the Prophecy. You are not takin’ the fall. Even if that means several years down the road. You’re gonna get your memories back.” Jack’s face was red, anger and hurt filling his voice. “I _will_ find you.”

 

Impressed by his resilience, the vampire couldn’t help but grin.

 

“Alright,” Mark laughed. “You’ve convinced me.”

 

Jack scoffed. “Shut the fuck up, you know I didn’t.” A smile teased the corners of his lips.

 

There was peace and quiet as the two stared toward the direction of the moon, unable to see it behind the clouds.

 

“Amber, she’s…” Jack started, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought about what to say. “She’s important to me. For a long time I thought, y’know, maybe she was just a fling. I thought we’d break up after a year of dating, but we never did. She stuck by me through all the bullshit. Vampires, Anti, my mental illness…she was there, suffering along with me with her own demons. I felt like, when I found out I was gonna be fulfilling a prophecy…I felt like my life mattered, and that was the first time that I truly felt that way. But this…knowin’ I have a baby girl on the way.” He looked over at Mark. “There’s no feelin’ like that.”

 

The Korean-German nodded, pursing his lips. “I can’t imagine.”

 

“I’m really so fuckin’ grateful for you,” the human said sincerely. “You’ve been an amazing friend. You’ve let me string out my life this long already. Nobody’s ever cared that much for me.”

 

A sad smile formed on Mark’s lips. “I’m glad you’re my friend, Seán.”

 

Jack wiped away a stray tear from his cheek, laughing at his display of emotion. “Alright, this has gotten way too sappy.” He turned from the balcony and back toward the door. “Let’s go inside. I need more beer.”

 

“In a minute,” Mark answered, still staring toward the moon. “Just enjoying the breeze.”

 

Mark exhaled upon hearing Jack shut the door, closing his eyes, focusing inward in meditation. His bloodlust was still burning just beneath the surface, and he wanted nothing more than to be indulging in Jack’s blood rather than the whisky in his glass. But he was going to have to be strong for his friend.

 

The horrifying vision from last week flashed briefly in his head again. It crippled him momentarily, and he gripped the banister around the balcony, grunting in confusion.

 

_Your fault! Your fault! Your fault!_

 

“I know,” he whispered into the night air. “I know. It _is_ my fault.” Sighing deeply, he swallowed his negative feelings the best he could. “Everything is.”

 

He gulped the last of the whisky down and went inside, attempting to put on a happy face for the birthday boy.


	24. It Will All Be Over Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There is a house in New Orleans  
> They call the Rising Sun  
> And it's been the ruin of many poor souls  
> And lord, my father is one
> 
> My mother, she's a tailor  
> She sews those new blue jeans  
> Keep my gambling father drunk  
> Deep down in New Orleans
> 
> It's a happy, happy, happy, happy, fun day, day..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is the title a premonition about how much longer I'm going to be writing this fic? Naaahh. We still got a ways to go. But please, be my guest, and enjoy some more fucked up shit!

The sun bathed his pallid flesh, his eyelids twitching as the light invaded his home through the blinds.

 

Spring had arrived, the birds chirping in the morning and the early dawn signaling that change had come.

 

Mark no longer knew what day it was. They were all running together.

 

When he wasn’t at the hospital working, he spent time alone in his townhouse, playing mindless video games or watching flashy, colorful shows on basic cable while downing full bottles of scotch. The liquor eased his headaches into numbness and kept his throat from feeling so parched.

 

He couldn’t remember the last time he ate.

 

The vampire groaned to life, rubbing his face with cold hands, attempting to get his consciousness to cooperate. Sitting up slowly and carefully, he looked all around the room. His clothes from yesterday were strewn about haphazardly, an empty bottle of Maker’s Mark lying on its side next to the couch. He wondered why he didn’t bother making it to bed last night.

 

Jack hadn’t spoken to him for about a week. That much, at least, he could keep up with. He assumed the human was busy helping Amber decorate the nursery for the baby, whose birth would signal a beginning and an end for Jack. Mark made no effort to call on him first. His pride prevented him from being too clingy.

 

Mark’s phone lit up, an unwelcome _ping_ echoing in his pained skull. He fumbled groggily for the device to see a number he didn’t recognize.

 

_Happy birthday Mark! I miss you so much._

_This is Gianna btw._

He stared idly at the screen, fingers poised at the ready to type out a reply, but couldn’t muster any words to say at the moment. Mark planted the phone face-down on his coffee table, biting at his lower lip while his forehead creased with confusion.

 

_It’s April 29 th already…_? he thought. Time really was getting away from him.

 

A shy knock at the door made him jump, prepared for the worst as he pulled on some pants and moved toward it quietly. He pressed his ear to the door, hearing the muffled sound of two human heartbeats and the hushed voices of Jack and Amber.

 

The door creaked open painfully slowly and Mark poked his head out, squinting into the glare of the sun.

 

“Mornin,’ sleepyhead!” Jack cried, inviting himself and Amber inside. Her stomach was noticeably more round, and she moved slowly, making sure not to trip over her own feet.

 

“Hello…” Mark replied in a hushed tone. He closed the door behind them as they wandered in, both trying not to notice the mess in Mark’s house. “Why are you guys out so early?”

 

“I was up all night,” Amber laughed. “Kept him up, too, I guess. Little Mary just doesn’t wanna be still, does she?” She cooed to her belly, holding it securely, while Jack put an arm around her shoulders.

 

“I remembered today is your birthday,” Jack said proudly. Mark grinned.

 

“That’s very nice of you to remember,” he responded. “Thank you.”

 

“How old are you now, anyway?” the Irishman asked as he plopped down on the sofa, scooting Mark’s blanket out of the way so that Amber could sit.

 

“Two-hundred and twenty-two.”

 

“I don’t know about you,” Amber sang, “but I’m feelin’ two-hundred and twenty-two!” Jack chuckled and rolled his eyes.

 

“Hilarious,” the vampire groaned sarcastically. “But like, seriously…why are you here so early?”

 

“We thought you might wanna go out for your birthday!” Jack was typing away on his phone, half-paying attention to the conversation.

 

“…It’s daytime.” Mark’s dry response was unamused.

 

“So? Our sleep schedules are fucked. You need to get out o’ the house, dude.”

 

“Come with us to the mall!” Amber chimed in. “I wanted to pick up a few more things for the nursery.”

 

“Thanks, but I’d literally rather do anything else.”

 

“Damn, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” the young woman muttered under her breath.

 

“That’d be true if I had _made it_ to the bed last night.”  

 

“Come on, Mark,” Jack whined. “Let’s just go out! Come have a drink with me while Amber shops.”

 

“Jack—“

 

“I’m not takin’ ‘no’ for an answer!” the green-haired man shouted over Mark’s would-be excuse. “Let’s go.”

 

Defeated, the Korean rolled his eyes toward the heavens and sighed deeply, kicking himself for letting his guard down against two humans.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I can’t believe we are actually in a bar at nine A.M.,” Mark said mostly to himself. Jack was already finished with his first beer and was about to request another when he saw that Mark had hardly touched his old fashioned.

 

“Drink too much last night?” Jack asked, concern in his eyes.

 

“I drink too much every night.” The vampire’s reply was dismissive, almost harsh.

 

“Mark…” Jack stopped himself before he went on a tirade about how he shouldn’t be drinking so much, realizing that _he_ was the reason Mark was doing this to himself. He bit his tongue, looking down at the table with a heavy weight on his heart.

 

“It’s the only way I can keep myself from thinking about how much I want your blood.”

 

The Irishman gulped audibly, his eyes growing wide with fear.

 

“I could really use something to offset this alcohol,” Mark continued, not waiting for a snide response from Jack. The immortal glanced around the room, looking for anyone who might want to volunteer their veins as tribute.

 

“You’re gonna feed? Here? _Now_?” Jack’s casual concern grew to paranoia very quickly.

 

“Relax,” Mark coaxed, putting on a sly smile. “I just need a little.” He turned his eyes toward Jack viciously, a hunger in them unlike the human had ever seen. “Sitting across from you has got me feeling rather…ravenous.”

 

“Okay, let’s just...” His nerves were getting the best of him. “Let’s just calm down and think through this rationally.”

 

“You know the last time I had blood from the vein was that day in my office?” Mark asked, cocking his head to one side as he stared at his future protégée. “And the time before that was New Year’s Eve. That kid in the hotel. You remember?”

 

“I…er…” Suddenly at a loss for words, Jack began to sweat.

 

“I can hardly stand the scent of you,” Mark said in a collected manner, his gravelly voice getting quieter and quieter while he spoke, almost as if the thought of tearing Jack’s throat out wasn’t driving him mad. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as Jack mimicked him, struggling to hear his words over the ambience of the restaurant. “I’ve never wanted to eat something so badly in my entire life. But if I took just a _little_ bit of your sustenance…” He cocked his head to the opposite side, glaring daggers through the petrified human. “…I wouldn’t stop. I’d drink, and drink, and drink, until…there was nothing left of you. I crave your blood every day. It’s a miracle I’m able to control myself anymore. And _God_ …” The vampire’s voice was practically a growl now. “I’m just so fucking _hungry_ , Jack.”

 

“Will you fellas be having anything else to drink?” The timid voice of the bubbly waitress broke Jack’s trance and he jumped, grabbing his chest while his heart hammered away beneath his ribs.

 

Mark’s cool grin was savage as he stared only at Jack.

 

“I would love to have some of your blood,” the vampire told the girl, still keeping his eyes trained on Jack. Jack, in turn, coughed nervously when the waitress’s face went white.

 

“He’s kidding!” the green-haired man excused, trying to diffuse the tension. “He’s playin’ a joke. Right, Mark?”

 

A sinister smirk creeped across Mark’s face, and he blinked slowly, turning to stare at the waitress.

 

“Of course I’m kidding…” Mark told her, leaning in to read her name tag, “…Sarah. I’m kidding, Sarah.”

 

“Oh…okay!” Sarah’s reply was mostly a sigh of relief. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before.” She shook off her nervousness, trying to forget what Mark had just said. Sarah pointed toward the empty glass in front of Jack. “Would you care for another beer? You had the wheat, right?”

 

“Y—yes,” Jack stammered. “The wheat, please.”

 

“And I’ll assume nothing for you, then, sir?”

 

Mark’s face was cold as his smile faded. “Nothing for me. Thank you, Sarah.”

 

Jack fidgeted under the table, his leg bouncing uncontrollably as he struggled to contain himself. His eyes refused to meet Mark’s, who sat on the other side of the table sipping at his old fashioned. Mark cracked his neck on one side and then the other, setting the glass down carefully on the table.

 

“I know this is my fault,” the Irishman said after Sarah had brought his second beer. “I should have been turned already. But now we’re in so deep, I dunno what we’re gonna do.”

 

After another slow sip, Mark swallowed, the liquor coating his aching throat.

 

“We’ll figure it out,” he answered with some small amount of promise. “We always do.” His evil grin made Jack’s spine grow cold.

 

_You two are in quite the predicament, aren’t you?_ Anti’s voice was not a welcome presence in his mind as Jack downed the rest of his beer.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Mark made an effort to avoid Jack as much as he could, only seeing him when others were around so that he didn’t accidentally find himself fangs-deep in the human’s neck. He was beyond any kind of help, barely managing to force himself to drink blood from blood bags. The taste turned his stomach, and all he could think about was how much he’d rather be feeding from Jack.

 

Summer was here, sometime in mid-July, and Mark was running around the hospital frantically with the new intern that replaced Amber when she took her leave of absence. He hated that the intern had to work with him on his evening shift instead of coming in at normal hours, but he didn’t allow himself to care too much about it. He felt like he was speaking fifty million words a minute, glancing back every now and then to make sure the young man was still following him, cursing at the understaffed hospital for not having him properly trained already.

 

From down the hallway, he spotted Jack rushing through the doors, towing Amber by the wrist as the redhead grimaced in pain, holding her stomach.

 

“Slow _down_ , Jack!” Mark heard Amber plead.

 

“Er, on second thought,” the vampire began, turning to the intern, “let’s go to the other wing of the hospital. There are things we can work on there—“

 

“Mark!” Jack cried, causing everyone in the hallway to turn toward Dr. Fischbach and the intern.

 

“You know them?” the intern asked, frowning as he watched the couple racing toward Mark.

 

A deep sigh was the only answer that the young man got, and Mark turned back toward the direction of Jack and Amber.

 

“Somethin’s wrong,” Jack panted, trying to catch his breath. “The baby, she’s…somethin’s wrong.”

 

“Hold on, hold on,” the Korean said, trying to focus on Jack’s words rather than his neck. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

 

“I’m fine, Seán,” Amber snapped, grunting in pain. “It’s nothing to worry about. Just a few cramps.”

 

“No, there was blood!” The human was in hysterics. “I saw it!”

 

Their voices grew more and more distant as Mark listened intently to Jack’s rapid heartbeat, the fear of something happening to the child emanating from him, making his scent even more irresistible.

 

After what felt like several minutes, Jack was snapping his fingers in front of Mark’s face, pulling his attention back to them. Mark casually wiped drool from the side of his mouth, not sure how long he had been staring at his friend.

 

“Are you listenin,’ Mark?” the green-haired human barked. “Does she need to see the doctor, or not?”

 

It was then, amidst the chaos, that Mark figured out the problem.

 

He focused on the two heartbeats in front of him, able to determine the difference in Amber’s and Jack’s. What he didn’t hear was a third, tinier heartbeat.

 

“I…” Mark’s words caught in his throat while he pieced together the unthinkable. “Yes. Yes, get her back there. _Now_.”

 

The urgency in the vampire’s voice made Jack’s skin crawl, and Amber froze with fear.

 

“ _Come on!_ ” Mark yelled at the two, urging them forward toward the birthing area. He called to the intern as he ran off with Amber and Jack. “Stay here, I’ll be back!”

 

Jack’s head swam as they ran past door after door, Mark bursting through the huge entrance to the operating area. The doctor and nurses inside were taking a break, sitting around on their computers, when Mark interrupted their flow.

 

“What the—what are you doing here, Dr. Fischbach?” one of the nurses asked.

 

“She’s…Amber, she’s…the baby…” A grave look crossed the doctor’s face as he realized what Mark was trying to say.

 

In what felt like only a moment, Amber was on her back on the hospital gurney, screaming nurses surrounding her, medical terminology flying left and right and too quickly for her to keep up with. They pumped the epidural into her spine, pulling her body down toward the bottom of the bed and splitting her legs open.

 

“What’s happening?” the redhead cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. Jack stood in the back with Mark, watching with horror as the doctors cut into her stomach with the scalpel. He gagged at the crimson that oozed from the slit, looking toward the gleaming tile floor instead. Mark held his breath, trying to ignore the scent of fresh, hot blood.

 

“What’s wrong with her? _What’s wrong with her?!_ ” Amber’s questions kept going unanswered.

 

“Please, ma’am, you need to calm down,” the nurse next to her said, patting her forehead with a damp cloth. “We’re doing everything we can.”

 

“Mark,” the Irishman breathed, turning to his friend. Mark only stared ahead, his jaw clenched tight. “Is she…?”

 

His lack of a response told Jack all that he needed to know.

 

A century felt like it had passed when the doctor pulled the bloodied child from Amber’s womb. Her skin was blue and purple, unnatural-looking, her tiny eyes frozen over. Jack put a hand over his mouth as he struggled not to scream.

 

“Stillborn,” the doctor whispered in despair. The nurses grabbed the baby, taking her over to a different station, where they performed CPR until they were sure she couldn’t be saved.

 

“Where is she?” Amber cried through a haze after a few moments. “Where’s Maria?”

 

“I’m so sorry, miss,” the doctor started. The young mother shook her head, looking at Jack for an answer.

 

“She’s dead…?” the Irishman couldn’t believe the words he was saying.

 

“The baby girl died in the womb several hours ago, from the looks of it,” he explained. “There is…nothing that can be done.”

 

Amber shrieked in despair, throwing her head back in a bloodcurdling wail as sobs overcame her.

 

“No! _No_! You’re lying! You’re lying to me! She’s _not_ dead! She can’t be dead…please...!”

 

Jack took several steps back in disbelief, the shock and horror nearly drowning him. Mark turned to him, almost blurring, and his eyes grew suddenly very fearful. The vampire reached out toward his friend, but everything was in slow motion. The room spun, his stomach churned, and the human fell backwards, his skull cracking hard on the tile below him. The last thing he remembered, through Amber’s screams, was Anti’s voice in the blackness.

 

_Hush now_ , the god told him comfortingly. _It will all be over soon_.   


	25. Nothing/Pleasure/Ecstasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And you said, it was like fire around the brim  
> Burning solid, burning thin the burning rim  
> Like stars burning holes right through the dark  
> Flicking fire like saltwater into my eyes  
> You were one inch from the edge of this bed  
> I dragged you back a sleepyhead,   
> Sleepyhead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all deserve someone who is SO MUCH BETTER at updating fic than I am looool I'm so sorry! Anyways here's a thing, now back to your regularly-scheduled bullshit!

The month of August brought a legendary heat wave, the likes of which Santa Monica hadn’t seen in years. Amber had begun therapy for the emptiness that nearly swallowed her whole, the numbness in her brain making the entire world hazy. Her family, Katherine and Blake, had moved to Los Angeles to be with her in her desperate time of need. They all stayed in Mark’s home, at first as guests, but as the weeks went by the situation seemed more permanent. Blake had even gotten enrolled in school and Katherine found a job.  

 

It had been a month since Jack had gone into his coma.

 

Amber waited by his bedside in the hospital for the first two weeks, until the sight of him lying lifeless became unbearable. Often, Katherine would come and sit with her, keeping her company in the silence that haunted her. She spent the nights she wasn’t in therapy alone in Mark’s house, wearing Jack’s clothes, absorbed in the scent of him.  

 

After quitting his job at the hospital to avoid seeing Jack every day, Mark spent the better part of his conscious hours researching, thumbing through _The Prophecy_ , poring over online articles, in a desperate attempt to find an artifact of great value.

 

Once he had a lead on it, he tried sneaking away early in the morning, before the sunrise, to board a plane to the United Kingdom to visit the British Museum. Amber was awake, sitting on the couch, flipping mindlessly through the channels on the TV. Her glazed blue eyes stared at nothing; or rather, they stared through the screen itself, into a reality that no one else knew about but her.  

 

“You’re leaving?” she asked in a low drone.

 

Mark halted at the door, hand on the knob, his bag dangling from his shoulder. “I have something I have to do.” He felt guilty for trying to sneak out without saying goodbye, so he turned toward the pale-faced girl, tip-toeing to the couch so he didn’t wake her family.

 

“What is it?” Amber prodded. Her finger continued to press the channels in one direction on the remote.

 

“It’s just…a thing I need to get. It’s not really important. But I _promise_ I’ll be back as soon as I can.” The vampire forced a smile. “Okay?”

 

“What if he dies while you’re gone?” The question spilled out like vomit, cruelly, and Mark winced.

 

“He’s not—“ And then he realized how uncertain his future was, _Jack_ ’s future, and Amber’s. He realized just how badly he had fucked up.

 

“I’m going to be back in a week.” His response was rough, unfeeling, as if he had turned off all emotion.

 

“Why can’t I come with you?” Her sorrowful eyes formed tears.

 

“This is something I have to do alone,” he told her, a more serene tone to his voice this time. “I am gonna come back to you, okay? Jack’s gonna wake up. Maybe even while I’m gone.”

 

Once he touched down in the U.K., Mark skipped the formalities of locating his living quarters for the next few days to head straight for the museum. A taxi brought him as close as it could get him, and he ran as human-like as possible for the door, hoping that he wasn’t too late to speak to the curators. His headache was coming back, and being in the evening sun didn’t help matters at all.

 

He entered, seeing a small tour group of what looked like teenagers surrounding a tall woman, their backpacks forming a barrier around them as they huddled to look closer at an item trapped forever behind thick glass. The tall woman’s eyes immediately found Mark’s, and he fought the urge to look away from her piercing gaze. Her skin was dark as the night, her cheekbones prominent and gleaming with a sheer highlighter in the orange sunlight. It was her eyes that stunned Mark—a rich, golden, honeyed color rimmed with green eyeshadow.

 

His keen sense of smell alerted him that she, too, was a vampire. The look on her face, unnoticeable by human eyes, was one of reverence toward her fellow blood kin.

 

“The tour has come to an end, little ones,” the woman announced, her voice somehow more powerful than her appearance. “The museum will be closing soon. Your bus will arrive shortly.” Her accent reminded him of Amelia’s—posh, but not overwhelming.

 

Groans and whines erupted from the group, who soon shrugged and scattered elsewhere, chatting excitedly about their adventure. They rushed past Mark, almost not seeing him, and he waited until the enormous main room had cleared of patrons before approaching the intimidating creature.

 

“I believe I spoke with you on the phone?” Mark asked in a small voice, almost so hushed that even the room couldn’t ring out with its echo.

 

“You did.” The woman smiled warmly, a stark contrast to her empowered stature. “You are here about the blade?”

 

The Korean vampire nodded once. Without another word, the woman began leading him toward a back room which held an ornately-decorated office.

 

A man sat at a shining oak desk, his skin nearly as dark as the woman who escorted Mark. Not a single heartbeat could be heard in the room, and Mark hoped that he was, at the very least, among friends and not foes.

 

The door closed behind Mark and the woman, and the man ushered Mark to sit.

 

“I knew you had to be one of us,” the dark-skinned man laughed. “No human has ever asked to see the blade.” His accent was not as detectable as the female curator’s. It was unlike any Mark had heard.

 

“I would hope no human would ever discover it,” Mark joked, trying to ease into the chair across from the other vampire.

 

There was an awkward silence. No one breathed or moved a muscle for several seconds. Mark cleared his throat.

 

“I, er…I’m Mark, by the way.” He extended his hand outward to meet the cold embrace of the darker man’s handshake.

 

“Mark…” A puzzled look crossed the man’s face. “That is…your given name?”

 

“Oh, no, sir,” Mark back-tracked, embarrassed. “My given name is Marquinhos.”

 

“Marquinhos Morelock.” A sly smile played at the lips of the man across from him.

 

“My reputation precedes me,” the Korean-German chuckled.

 

“Indeed. I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting you at all.” His eyes sparkled with excitement. “My name is Cyrus.”

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Mark hissed barely under his breath. “Cyrus…as in…Malachi’s protégé? Lucien’s sire?”

 

“Your grandfather?” Cyrus prompted when the answer didn’t hit the younger vampire immediately.

 

“Oh, my…fuck. Wow. Excuse my language, but…” Struggling to find words, Mark racked his brain. “I guess we thought you were dead. Father never talks about you.”

 

“It is better that way,” Cyrus answered sadly. “My wife and I chose to leave the life of the Prophecy behind.” He gestured behind him to the stunning woman who had her back pressed against the door, arms crossed. Mark turned to see her waving slightly with fingers covered in jewels.

 

“Octavia?” The name caught in Mark’s throat.

 

Her smile told him all that he needed to know.

 

Many questions cropped up in Mark’s head. “Where have you guys _been_ all this time?” He glanced back and forth from husband to wife. “How have you managed to stay off the Ancients’ radar?”

 

“That has not been an easy task,” Octavia told him grimly. “In short, we’ve just done a very good job of covering our tracks. We try to live our daily lives with the humans as much as we can, drinking blood only when we need it.”

 

“We’ve actually managed to sustain ourselves with human food,” Cyrus said. “Not entirely, and not every day. Not even every week. But it is possible. And once you get past the fact that it tastes like nothing, you can start imagining what it _would_ taste like if you were alive.”

 

“But regarding the confidants…” the female vampire’s voice dropped lower. “We lead them on a goose chase, of sorts. Get clues pointing them in all the wrong directions. Then we have other vampires take them out quietly, in different parts of the world. We’ve gotten quite good at it. As the saying goes… ‘we have friends in low places.’”

 

“How is Lucien?” Cyrus’s gentle voice steered the conversation elsewhere.

 

“He’s…” Mark scowled, remembering what had happened at the last Harvest. “We actually aren’t on speaking terms.”

 

Cyrus’s mouth formed a hard line. “I remember what that’s like.”

 

“Why did you and my father stop speaking?”

 

The older vampire exhaled, looking skyward as if the answer would rain from the heavens so he didn’t have to talk about it.

 

“That is a matter of old times past,” he decided finally. “We won’t trifle with such burdens now.” Cyrus shifted in his seat, ready to jump to a different topic. “I’m sure you’re interested in the blade for _some_ reason…either you’re planning a mass genocide and don’t want to get your hands dirty, or…something more selfish? More personal?”

 

The chocolate eyes of the Korean vampire read a deep emptiness to the older man.

 

“My protégé may never wake up from his coma,” Mark explained solemnly. “I need to be prepared for the worst if that happens. And I’ll need the blade to do that.”

 

Cyrus’s expression didn’t change.

 

“You could run from your fate,” Octavia piped up, “as we did.”

 

“They can’t hurt you if they don’t know where to find you,” Cyrus agreed.

 

“No, I…” Mark swallowed, unsure how to respond. “I got myself into a mess. This is entirely my fault. And a lot of lives could be ruined because of it. So I figure, if I just take myself out of the equation, it won’t matter as much.”

 

“You think that,” the dark-skinned man began, “but what you don’t realize is the good you’re doing just by surviving. Octavia and I have run this museum on and off for centuries. We just keep changing our names and our styles. We are helping the human world learn while at the same time managing our own culture and our own past. You could do more of the same.”

 

Mark wasn’t convinced.

 

“Can you show me the blade?” he asked, disregarding Cyrus’s intentions.

 

“I’ll even entrust you with it, if that is your choice.” Cyrus stood, straightening his suit and tie. “I have no right to guide you otherwise. But please remember what I said.”

 

“Your immortality is a gift as much as it is a curse,” Octavia reminded him, following behind the two men as they walked out of the office and toward a back room in the main part of the museum. “Please, don’t take your own life, Marquinhos.”

 

The Korean fought the urge to roll his eyes and scoff, but remembered his manners.

 

“I just need it for my own peace of mind,” he lied.

 

After a week had passed, Mark lay in his bed at home in the dark, running the sharp edge of the blade along his fingertips. It was carved from bone and volcanic glass, likely the same obsidian that formed the massive table of the Ancients. It was more of a small dagger than anything, a ruby jewel set within the pommel that gleamed if he turned it a certain way in the moonlight. It was sharp enough to cut his flesh, little drips of blood forming at the wound. He grinned, sucking the crimson from his finger and closing his eyes.

 

Amber burst through the door, startling Mark so much that he dropped the blade on his bare chest and he scrambled to pull the quilt over him.

 

“What the hell did I tell you about _privacy_?” the vampire growled, fumbling to hide the dagger beneath his pillow.

 

The young redhead stomped over to the edge of his bed, where she sat and crossed her arms, pouting.

 

“You were gone for too long,” she grumbled.

 

The Korean tossed his head back, sighing. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m not gonna leave like that ever again.” His heart betrayed his words, and he felt the anguish of guilt settling in. “What are you doing in here?”

 

There was a stillness that disturbed the immortal, almost as if Amber had frozen solid. Finally, she spoke, a soft voice in the dark.

 

“I want you to feed on me.”

 

“That is a big _no_ from me,” Mark answered immediately. “Sorry.”

 

“I need to feel something, Mark!” Amber’s voice quivered as she fought to control her emotions. “The pills keep me numb, but I need to…I need to _feel_. And your bite can make me feel something. Do you understand?”

 

“I’m not feeding from you! That’s enough!”

 

The young woman’s blue eyes tried to meet his in the dark, though she couldn’t see his countenance very well. Her eyelids were puffy and red, her lips chapped from dehydration.

 

“Come on,” she begged. “Just once. Then I’ll never ask you again. I promise.”

 

As he started to speak, Mark stopped himself, choosing instead to listen to the faint heartbeat at the bottom of his bed. It was a normal pace. Not too fast, not too slow. The dull pain of his headache returned to him. The scent of her caused him to salivate slightly, until his trance was broken by his own conscious mind.

 

“Amber, I can’t,” he protested. “I’ve only fed from Jack in the last, like, _year_ or so. And that hasn’t gone too well.”

 

Silence. A sinking feeling found Mark reeling in his own head.

 

With a groan, he threw the quilt off of him, crawling down toward the bottom of his bed on his hands and knees. He sat with Amber, keeping his eyes on his feet that were pressed to his cold hardwood floor.

 

“What if I can’t stop myself?” the Korean asked. “I mean…It’s just been so long.”

 

Amber shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to me.”

 

“We’re not playing this game, Amber. I can’t kill you. You have your mom and brother—“

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know.”

 

Mark exhaled a mixture of confusion and fury as he processed exactly what she was asking him to do. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at her neck, seeing her vein pumping gently away under her skin. His head turned involuntarily as he watched her tilt her head ever so slightly, her pallid throat exposed, collarbone jutting from beneath her blouse, her bra strap showing. She knew exactly what she was doing to him.

 

He leaned toward her, licking his lips, fixating on the warmth of her throat.

 

“Please, Mark,” she begged in a whisper. “Please.”

 

The cold brush of his lips on her skin made her shiver. He could hardly bear the thought of an actual human being _begging_ him to drink her blood. Mark’s lips curled back and his fangs jutted out as he gently pricked her skin, sucking at the vein with great fervor.

 

Amber, unsure of what sensation was about to hit her, held her breath. She squeezed her eyes shut, but within moments, the pain diminished into…nothing. And then from nothing into pleasure. And then from pleasure into ecstasy.

 

She gripped the blanket beneath her, pressing her knees together, trying not to cry out as she bit her lip hard.

 

Mark continued to drink, slowly and carefully, listening intently to her heartbeat so that he could determine when to stop. He moaned a couple of times involuntarily, bringing a hand around to hold the side of Amber’s face. She reached her tiny hand toward his to hold it against her, squeezing it close, intertwining their fingers.

 

After a moment, Amber could no longer help herself. She squeaked, her voice taking a mind of its own. She moaned quietly.

 

“Oh…ah…M- _Mark_ …don’t stop…”

 

The startled vampire pulled away, wiping her blood from his lips as best as he could, and shuffled away from her, clearing his throat.

 

Amber didn’t become aware that he had stopped until a few seconds later, when she opened her eyes to look over at him in surprise.

 

“Why did you stop?” she whined. She then looked downward to see Mark’s hand fidgeting around his crotch. “Are you…oh, my God, do you have a boner right now?”

 

“Oh, well, _I’m_ sorry!” the vampire exclaimed. “I mean, I dunno. I’m feeding from a hot girl and she starts moaning my name, tellin’ me not to stop, like…I don’t know what kind of response you expected!”

 

The girl’s face burned bright red and she turned away from him, allowing him to calm down.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Mark said sincerely. “I…It’s just been…a while.”

 

“Yeah,” Amber said. “For me, too.” She pondered for a moment. “Why’d you make me feel good?”

 

“What?”

 

“You know. Why’d you make it…why did your bite make me…you know?”

 

“Oh.” Mark wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. “Well. I figured…you’d had enough pain in your life. So, I wanted to make that…I wanted to make you feel better. And unfortunately, the only two things a vampire bite can do is make you feel a massive amount of pain or a massive amount of pleasure. For some people, it’s stronger. I don’t know.”

 

Still embarrassed by his erection, Mark stood, pacing back and forth in front of the window and trying not to look at Amber. She seemed satisfied enough with his explanation, and so she stood slowly herself.

 

“I think I’m…” she began, gesturing toward his door. “I’m gonna maybe go lie down.”

 

Mark nodded, his mouth pressed into a line. He continued to stare out the window.

 

“Thank you for…that. Really. Hope you sleep well.” The young woman disappeared to the living room.

 

The vampire held his breath until he was sure she was gone, then exhaled deeply. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring out at the moon, a guilty conscience clouding his brain.

 

He should have turned Jack years ago. He shouldn’t have let the boy get caught up with relationships and dreams and _emotions_ about being human. But in thinking this way, Mark realized that he was no better than the Ancients or his father. Humanity is all that Jack had ever known…it was all that anyone _should_ ever know.

 

Mark turned back toward his pillow, reaching under to pull the blade out carefully. Relaxing once more into the comforter, he thought about what Jack might say about his encounter with Amber tonight.

 

“ _Yeah, I drank your girlfriend’s blood and it gave me a hard-on_ ,” he joked in his head. Jack would probably laugh about it eventually, once the awkward had gone away and once he realized Amber was alright.

 

He put the blade in his bedside table drawer and lay staring at the ceiling until he heard the stir of his human roommates getting Blake ready for school.


	26. I Was Afraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There is a truth, I can promise you that  
> I have tried so hard not to be like them  
> I have found they don't ever say what they mean...  
> The truth, the truth stands in the end  
> While you're deciding what to do.  
> The truth stands in the end  
> While you're deciding what to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys guys guys GUYS GUYS LOOKIT. LOOK WHERE WE ARE!!! Just you wait! We are ALMOST TO WHERE I BEGAN THIS STORY WITH THE PROLOGUE IN THE FIRST PLACE AHOFIHAOIWHEF I am very excited yay c: 
> 
> Thank you to those of you who've stuck with me this long. If you haven't been keeping up but you wanna jump back in, I'd try to re-read the Prologue here in the next little bit just to keep your minds fresh. God knows I need to re-read it lmao eyeroll emoji

The end of September remained just as hot as August, and the leaves on the trees refused to turn brown and die off. It was insufferable at best, and water parks stayed open even past the Labor Day cutoff to accommodate kids after school just looking for some refreshment. A drought brought even more issues, turning lush green lawns into graveyards.  

 

Mark had woken up early to make breakfast for Blake and Katherine before they had to leave for work and school. Amber slept off a hangover in Mark’s bed with the curtains drawn, a scarf tied around her neck to hide Mark’s bite as was the custom for the last month or so.

 

“Is Sis okay?” Blake asked, his naivety almost painful. He stuffed half a pancake into his mouth as he waited for Mark’s response.

 

“Yeah, she’s just not feeling well,” Mark told him. “She’ll be fine.”

 

“She hungover?” Katherine grumbled. “I told her she shouldn’t drink while she’s takin’ her pills.”

 

Mark frowned as he sat down with them, glancing over at the TV screen to see a news report warning citizens in L.A. to cut back on their water usage.

 

“That’s…sort of my fault, Ms. Stewart.” The vampire looked down at the table shamefully. “We were out too late last night. I’m sorry.”

 

“I don’t know what it is that you _do_ , Mark,” the red-haired woman snapped, “but Amber doesn’t need to be a part of it. Period. She needs to find a job again and get back to normal. She needs to let go of Jack.” Katherine finished her plate and stood hastily to take it to the sink. “You _both_ do.”

 

The Korean remained silent. Blake kept his eyes glued to his plate.

 

“At least get her up for her psychiatrist appointment later, would you?” Katherine asked snidely, making her way toward the door to grab her keys. “Come on, Blake. You’re gonna be late for school.”

 

“Bye, Mark,” the boy said meekly, grabbing his school bag from the couch.

 

“See ya, kiddo,” Mark responded. He watched the two leave, but not before receiving one more glare from Katherine.

 

Somehow, Amber and Mark had managed to keep his identity as an immortal completely under-wraps from her family. He had started drinking blood from humans again. Amber shared her pills with him and they did help sustain his headaches, but they also made him incredibly thirsty.

 

Amber wasn’t _just_ taking her medications, as much as Katherine wanted to believe. She and Mark went out nearly every night to party in the city, indulging in everything from cocaine to molly to acid. Typically, Mark would find some unfortunate soul cracked out of their minds and drink from them, careful not to take too much, while Amber covered for him or kept an eye out for anyone who may pass by. The extra rush of whatever was in their system made for an interesting after-effect.

 

The psychiatry appointment went as expected. Amber complained that her prescriptions weren’t doing the trick, and so her doctor upped her dosage even further. The psychiatrist stared sadly at the young woman before him—dark, hollow eyes, white skin, a frailty about her that almost seemed like she would break if someone squeezed her too hard, messy red bun frazzled and worn from days of going unbrushed.

 

“Let’s see you back here in a month, okay?” the kind doctor pleaded with her. “Take care of yourself.”

 

The young woman smiled thinly at him, scratching at the back of her neck beneath the itchy wool scarf. She stood without saying anything else and headed downstairs with her script in hand for her new medications.

 

Mark was pulled up on the curb near the behavioral health center, hiding his eyes behind dark sunglasses and playing music from his phone. Checking the time, he figured Amber would be coming out any minute, hopefully with something good.

 

Sure enough, the passenger door opened and she slumped in, tossing the bag of medicine toward the dark-haired man.

 

“Got some higher-grade shit,” she told him. “Klonopin. And some Xanax.”

 

“Score,” Mark cheered, searching quickly through the paper bag.

 

“And I found these in some passed-out junkie’s pocket behind the dumpsters…” Amber pulled a handful of pills from her coat pocket. “Oxys, it looks like.”

 

“I actually don’t know what those are,” Mark answered nervously. “Oh well.”

 

“Wanna go halfsies?” She held out three or four pills to him and jiggled them together.

 

Sighing deeply, Mark nodded and took them from her, popping all of them in his mouth.

 

“Ugh,” he choked at the taste. “Get in the glovebox and see what’s in there to wash this shit down with.”

 

The woman pulled the glovebox open carefully, several shuffled papers and empty medicine bottles falling out.

 

“Er, looks like your stash is a little on the low side,” she groaned, pulling out two airplane bottles of liquor. “You want…Jack? Or Maker’s Mark?”

 

“Jack’s fine.”

 

Popping the lids off the airplane bottles, Mark toasted Amber and they both took their shots, throwing the empties into the backseat. He put the vehicle in drive and pulled out onto the street.

 

“So, how come the pills can affect you?” Amber asked after some time. She glanced out the window as they passed the UCLA Medical Center, looking upwards at the room on the third floor where Jack was currently still residing, breathing tube intact and IVs in his arms.

 

“I mean, I can get drunk,” Mark answered, shrugging. “I guess medicine is the same. Although it doesn’t hit me as hard as it does for humans. Usually.”

 

Amber was already beginning to space out from the alleged oxycodone, and Mark’s voice felt like it was a million miles away. Her mouth was suddenly very dry.

 

“I’m thirsty,” she groaned, throwing her seat back in recline mode.

 

“Well, you just drank that shot,” the Korean man told her. “Your mom doesn’t want you hanging out with me anymore. She thinks I’m a bad influence on you.”

 

“Oh, my fucking _God_!” She threw her head back in a shrill laugh. “That woman is insane. Of course you’re a bad influence. You’re a fucking vampire.”

 

“Right, but she doesn’t know that.”

 

“Oh.” Amber shot up, putting the seat back to its normal position. “True.”

 

“Look, there’s a drive-thru. We can get you something to drink there.”

 

Pouting like a child, Amber turned to nearly smack her face against the window. “I want McDonald’s.”

 

“You want…you want food? Or drink?”

 

“Mc _Donald_ ’s.”

 

“Oh, my God.”

 

Mark pulled into the nearest parking lot, the tires squealing from the sudden jarring turn. His human passenger grabbed onto the door handle to hold tightly so she didn’t fall over into his lap.

 

“What the hell, Mark?” Amber cried.

 

“We’re gonna go into…this place…” He squinted, but his vision was suddenly becoming very hazy. “Oh…uh oh.”

 

“What?” Panic arose in her voice.

 

“I don’t think we’re in L.A. anymore,” he whispered, looking around in all directions. “I think we may be…on a different planet.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Amber waved her hands about wildly. “You’re drunk. It’s time to go home.”

 

“ _You’re_ drunk!”

 

Mark held his head, very acutely aware of the pain now. It was as if he could feel every part of his brain tearing itself apart and putting itself back together, the throbbing sensation making it seem like if he squeezed hard enough on his temples that his skull might pop open. He slowly laid his head on his steering wheel, turning to look at Amber with genuine fear on his face.

 

“I think I have to take out my eyes,” Mark told Amber in a very serious tone.

 

“No, you can’t take them out,” she whispered, horrified. “Then you can’t see!”

 

“I have to do this for us, Amber, I have to _do_ this.”

 

His fingers grew sharp black claws at the ends and he started toward his eyes before Amber punched him in the jaw. The force was enough to knock him against his window, and he was shocked at her strength.

 

“You’re fucking _drunk_ , Mark,” she spat, hopping out of the car. “‘The pills don’t hit you as hard,’ my _ass_. I’m going in here to get a drink.”

 

He watched her stumbling across the parking lot, feeling absolutely helpless and trapped in his seat belt. He wanted to cry. He hoped if he cried enough that his eyes would just fall out on their own, painlessly.

 

Several hours later, he came to on his back, on top of an overlook from which he could see the entire city. He sat straight up, very confused, looking everywhere for Amber.

 

His car was behind him, and Amber was in the driver’s seat with the door propped open, wearing his sunglasses and blasting the _Hamilton_ soundtrack from his phone. She had a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of Jameson in the other.

 

“I didn’t know you liked musicals,” she told him after she had seen he was awake.

 

“How the fuck did we get here…?”

 

“Duh, I drove,” she scoffed, taking a swig of the Jameson and flicking the ashes from the end of the cigarette. “You wanted to take out your goddamned eyes, so one of us had to be in good enough shape to drive.”

 

“You weren’t in good enough shape to drive, either,” the vampire snapped, stumbling over to the hood of the car, where he sat down on it to face away from her. “Where are we?”

 

She turned the music down, taking a long drag off of the cigarette. “This is where I think I fell in love with Jack.” There was a sense of despair clinging to her words. “He brought me here after our Valentine’s date. We danced to that Gwen Stefani song. I looked for it on your phone, but you don’t have it.”

 

A silence overcame them, and it felt hours long.

 

“Why do we take the drugs?” the vampire questioned solemnly. He was mostly asking himself, but hoping that Amber would have an answer.

 

“So we don’t have to feel.” Her response was cold. She took another drink.

 

“That’s deep, man.”

 

A slight chuckle from the human. “I decided that I don’t wanna feel anymore. Jack isn’t gonna wake up.”

 

Mark turned to her, coming around the side of the car to kneel beside her in the driver’s seat.

 

“I think if Jack doesn’t wake up, I have to kill myself,” he explained quietly.

 

Mark expected shock, outrage, _anything_ but what he got.

 

“I think I will too.” She got out of the car, turning off the playlist and walking over to sit in the grass. She patted the ground next to her and Mark came over.

 

“You can’t have your whole life centered around him, you know,” the vampire explained. “Jack wouldn’t want that. You shouldn’t kill yourself.”

 

“And I guess you’re just gonna be some type of martyr, then?” she barked. “You fucked up by not turning him, so you gotta go bye-bye? That what it is? A hero complex?”

 

“My life _literally_ revolves around turning Jack,” Mark said. “If I don’t turn him, I have absolutely no further purpose. The Ancients will just kill me anyways, so I’d rather give myself some agency and do it on my own.”

 

She sighed deeply, flicking her cigarette off the sheer drop-off ahead of them. Handing the bottle off to Mark, he took a long drink and gave it back to her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

“It’s too hot,” Amber complained, tugging at her scarf. The vampire nodded.

 

“What are we gonna do now?”

 

The blue-eyed girl stared into the night sky. “I dunno.”

 

Mark felt the splash of cold rain from above, and he hoped it wasn’t just another hallucination. Sure enough, he looked up to see that the sky had darkened, and just over the horizon, a thunderstorm was brewing.

 

“We should get back home,” Amber reasoned after some time.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Neither one of them moved as the rain came pouring down, soaking them to the bone.

 

A couple of weeks into October, Amber had finally found the phone she thought she lost ages ago. The battery was drained, the screen was cracked, and she had no idea why she had lost it in the first place, but it was lying just beneath Mark’s bed.

 

Plugging it in to her charger in one of the outlets, she sat and waited for it to come back to life, glancing all around Mark’s room. She had never taken the time to understand what all of the drawings and writings and photos were, but she figured it had something to do with his memories. He never talked about it.

 

Finally, the phone _ping_ ’d to life, along with dozens of texts and voicemails. A few were just appointment reminders, but there were several messages from Stella and a couple from Rochelle.

 

Instead of texting like she preferred to do, Amber dialed Stella’s number and pressed the phone to her ear.

 

“Hello?” came her former roommate’s voice softly on the other end of the line.

 

“Stella? Hey, it’s…Amber.”

 

“…Hey.”

 

There was a bleak tone to her voice that Amber couldn’t place.

 

“Sorry, my phone’s been totally dead. I kinda lost it for a few weeks.” An embarrassed chuckle from the red haired woman.

 

“That’s…erm…where’ve you been?” Stella sounded almost like Katherine. “‘Chelle and I have been visiting with Jack a lot…figured you’d be here. But we haven’t seen you since you…flaked out on our lease…so, yeah.”

 

“I’ve been staying with Mark,” Amber answered, trying to ignore the obvious annoyance in Stella’s voice. “And my mom and brother live here now with us.”

 

“When was the last time you stopped by to visit your boyfriend?” The words “your boyfriend” were injected like venom into Amber’s heart. She bit her tongue, fighting the urge to lash out, but knew that Stella was just worried about her, in her own weird way.

 

“I was gonna stop by today,” she lied, rolling her eyes. “I’ll bring Mark along.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

Silence for a few moments.

 

“Okay, well, I’m gonna get ready, then,” Amber said finally.

 

“Alright. We’ll be there at some point today, too. Just so you know.”

 

They exchanged brief goodbyes and Amber fell back on Mark’s bed, tears welling up in her eyes.

 

Mark drove Amber to the hospital, nearly refusing to get out of the vehicle.

 

“You need to come in, Mark,” she begged. “I told Stella I’d bring you. You literally haven’t even seen him, like…this whole time.”

 

“I am _terrified_ of seeing him,” the vampire answered, gripping the steering wheel and clenching his jaw. “I just…It’s too much.”

 

“Do you need a little liquid courage?” Amber offered, opening the glovebox. It was empty, aside from the pile of papers and random bottles filled with nothing. “Oh. Nevermind.”

 

“Do we have anymore pills?” Mark asked hopefully. The human reached into her bag and pulled out her Xanax bottle. Grinning sheepishly, Mark held his hand out for a few.

 

Once they had both taken more than their fair share of medicine, the duo stalked into the hospital. Amber felt the effect of the Xanax taking control, and she eased into it, relaxing her shoulders for the first time in days. A smile was plastered to her face and she felt like she was dancing on clouds all the way down the hospital halls.

 

For Mark, it was a different experience entirely. He focused intently on _every_ human heartbeat he came into contact with. He heard the screams of anguish from down the halls from someone who had just seen their loved one flat line. He heard babies crying in a completely separate wing of the hospital. He could _feel_ the tension surrounding him as he passed room after room, the guilt of not seeing Jack for so long now building up into a fragile tower that was going to collapse any moment.

 

“Mark, you doing okay?” Amber asked. She must have noticed his skittishness, jumping at every small sound and glancing wildly over both shoulders.

 

“I, er…” the vampire gulped, trying to calm himself. “Yep.”

 

Out of nowhere, they were in Jack’s room. It was like they had teleported. Mark stood on one side of the room while Amber was at the other, confronting Stella and Rochelle for the first time in a long time.

 

“…and we don’t need to apologize to _you_ , we were _worried_ about you!” The tail-end of Stella’s rant rang in Mark’s head, and there was a screech in his brain, almost like the feedback from a microphone. He pressed two fingers against his temple, focusing his energy on _not_ feeling like the world was falling apart around him.

 

“Hey, babe,” Rochelle began, “let’s not do this here, okay?”

 

“It’s not fair!” Stella snapped at her partner, pulling harshly away from an attempt at a hug. “She acts like she doesn’t even care about her own boyfriend.”

 

“I don’t know why you’re so defensive about how I feel about _my_ boyfriend,” Amber responded, finally having enough of it.

 

“And what’s this shit with _Mark_?” The blue-haired girl turned, glaring daggers at the vampire across the room. It felt like she had wrapped a rope around him and jerked him back into reality, and here he stood with three women and a man who may as well be on his death bed. Three women. Stella, Rochelle, Amber. A man: Jack. Fuck. _Jack_.

 

Amber noticed the tiny change of emotion within Mark, and she turned away from Stella’s rage to keep an eye on him.

 

“Hey, Mark?” she asked, making sure he was still _there_.

 

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” the immortal repeated under his breath, shaking his head shamefully and looking at the floor. “Jack, poor Jack…this is all my fault…”

 

_Your fault…your fault…your fault…_

The voices screamed at him from a time he did not remember, or one that he didn’t yet know.

 

“I _know_ it’s my fault!” Mark yelled mockingly toward the ceiling, holding his ears. Stella and Rochelle backed away instinctively.

 

“What’s wrong with him?” Rochelle questioned quietly, her eyes trained on Mark.

 

The lights in the room flickered and the entire atmosphere darkened. It was as if everyone was suddenly sucked into a nightmare world. Mark blinked, and the three women were gone. Vanished into thin air. A green luminescence seemed to shroud everything, like someone with horrible stage lighting skills had decided to put on a production of _Little Shop of Horrors_ and _only_ used the color green. There was a sound like static from a radio trying to tune in to a station that it couldn’t quite pick up, with spurts of voices and squeals every now and then.

 

He turned wildly, looking for signs of life anywhere. Jack was not in his hospital bed.

 

“What the hell…?” he whispered to himself. As he moved toward the bed to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, a small voice spoke from behind him.

 

“Mark.”

 

It was Jack’s voice, he knew. The vampire turned, slowly, hesitantly, to face what he hoped wasn’t an illusion.

 

The Irishman stood there, his brown roots showing beneath the faded green hair, a dark stubble on his face from not being able to shave, complete with his hospital gown and bracelets, staring coldly at Mark.

 

“Jack…” the vampire said in disbelief. “Is this…is this real? Where are we?”

 

“You’re on a lotta drugs, Mark,” the human said matter-of-factly without missing a beat.

 

“How are we talking? How are we here together?”

 

Jack shrugged. “Look, if vampires an’ gods an’ all that shit can exist, I figure there’s gotta be a way for a dude in a coma to reach out to the people he loves.”

 

“You’re really communicating with me? In the hospital room?” The Korean’s head was spinning, trying to make sense of the senseless.

 

Again, Jack shrugged.

 

“Can you please wake up?” Mark begged finally, his realization that this world was not the true world coming to fruition.

 

“I’ve been trying,” Jack told him sadly. “I’m really scared here alone.”

 

“You’ve been by yourself here this whole time?”

 

“Yeah. Just wandering. There’s nothing here. There’s no one.”

 

Cautiously, the immortal stepped forward to Jack, who took one careful step backward.

 

“It’s okay,” Mark promised, holding his hand out. “Don’t be afraid of me…I just…it’s been so long.”

 

Jack’s guard was up, clearly poised for a confrontation, but he slowly relaxed his shoulders, staring at Mark with huge, baleful blue eyes.

 

Upon reaching him, Mark wrapped his arms around his friend. In this world, he didn’t want to drink his blood. Even the scent of him just made him happy, not hungry. His heart was melting. Jack’s small, fragile arms circled around Mark’s back in return.

 

“Why didn’t you come see me?” Jack asked, muffled into Mark’s shoulder.

 

It took some time to come up with the answer. “I was afraid.”

 

The strength in Jack’s arms faltered and they drooped slightly, his knees nearly giving way beneath him. Mark grabbed him by his waist in an attempt to steady him.

 

“I’m…” Jack wheezed, trying to stay upright. “Mark, I’m--!”

 

Mark opened his eyes, gasping, to stare at Jack, who tried to sit straight up in bed but realized how weak he was. The human man began to panic, his heart rate increasing as he fumbled with the breathing tube.

 

“Oh, my God…!” Amber cried. “Jack!” She raced to his bedside, holding his hand against her face, weeping joyously.

 

“Nurse! Somebody! He’s awake!” Stella went racing down the halls, Rochelle on her heels, to get help so that Jack didn’t pull his tube out on his own.

 

Amber caressed his unshaven jaw while she wept, her touch calming him. His eyes found Mark, staring as if he were a foreign body he had never seen before, a cloudiness in his gaze that made the vampire nervous.

 

He didn’t know how he had gotten from the door to Jack’s bed. Jack didn’t know why he was suddenly awake. Amber and the others didn’t seem to notice anything that may or may not have happened in Mark’s head.

 

The hunger returned as he locked eyes with his protégé. Disgusted at himself, he turned away, trying to focus his thoughts elsewhere. A jolt of pain ran across his skull and he groaned.

 

Glancing back once more to the human, Jack gave him one understanding, calculated nod—one that told Mark that he knew what was to happen next—before the doctors and nurses swarmed in to assist him and talk to Amber. Mark stepped backward, fading into the shadows behind the commotion, and turned on his heel to leave, an emptiness in his heart.

 

Final preparations were in order, and he had work to do.  


	27. The Ones We Don't Talk About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ....  
> ....  
> ....  
> ....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buckle the fuckle up. 
> 
> (srsly re-read the prologue after this chapter for reals)

Amber and Jack spent the next few days in the hospital, allowing him to regain his strength by making sure he was eating well and trying to move around a little each day.

 

Katherine was in disbelief that the young man had pulled through after all. She helped out as much as she could when she wasn’t at work and when Blake didn’t have too much homework. Stella and Rochelle aided them, offering to pick up food or take Jack on walks around the hospital grounds.

 

Mark remained busy.

 

He had entered Jack’s apartment on the day he woke up, eyes scanning the dark, dusty living room for any signs of anything out of the ordinary. The electricity had been shut off and a layer of grime filmed most of the table tops and the hardwood flooring. Mark searched Jack’s bedroom to find his fireproof box, containing important documents that he would likely need.

 

His plan was to turn Jack and get him out of L.A. as soon as he could, unbeknownst to the Irishman and his girlfriend.

 

The vampire found a spare backpack from Jack’s college days and began to pack it with the documents from the box: birth certificate, passport, social security card, etc. The furniture, he surmised, would be auctioned off once the landlord realized that the apartment was vacant. No need worrying about making rent payments when you’re dead.

 

Once he finished packing up the important items, Mark headed back downstairs, turning once more to look around at the unsettling emptiness before closing and locking the door.

 

Jack received his release papers once he was able to prove he could move around without his walker and once his vitals were stabilized. Amber was beyond ecstatic, ready to have him back in her life, even if it was for a brief time. She still wasn’t aware of Mark’s intentions, and hadn’t spoken to him since Jack came out of his coma.

 

The Korean sat in his kitchen one brisk October morning, scrolling mindlessly through his phone while sipping on bourbon, when Katherine, Blake, Amber, and Jack burst through the door. Mark’s face was blank—he needed to speak to Jack, but not with everyone else around. He was glad he had left the incriminating evidence of their escape plan locked in the trunk of his car.

 

Katherine suggested that they all sit down and have dinner together that evening, and that she would cook. Mark politely declined, telling her that he had plans elsewhere. Amber’s eyes shifted to follow him out the door, wary of what was going on inside his head. She chose instead to focus on the fact that she had Jack with her again.

 

After an early dinner, Jack was ready to retire for the night, before the sun had even melted behind the skyline. Amber offered to let him bunk with her in one of the guest rooms, but he shook his head.

 

“I kinda wanna sleep in my bed tonight,” he told her sheepishly. “I’ve missed it.”

 

The girl frowned. “Why don’t I come with you?” she asked through fluttering eyelashes.

 

“Well, I…” His words weren’t forming the way he needed them to. “I, er…Mark and I need to talk…”

 

“Oh.” The hurt was evident across her face. “Well…can you maybe call when you’re done?”

 

The Irishman smiled warmly and embraced her, inhaling her perfume and shampoo, realizing that this may be the last time he would ever see her.

 

“Of course I will,” he promised, his voice cracking. She pulled away from him, hands on his shoulders, steadying him so she could gaze into his eyes.

 

“Are you crying?” she whispered as the tears began to fall.

 

“No, I’m just—“ The green-haired man cut himself off. “I’m just…happy to be alive.”

 

Amber pulled him into her again, holding him tighter this time.

 

Mark had walked all the way to Jack’s apartment by the time the human’s taxi had shown up to bring him there. Jack entered the unlocked door, looking around for the light switch. He realized that by flicking it, nothing was happening.

 

A shadow on the couch stood slowly, barely illuminated by a few candles that were scattered on the coffee table.

 

“Hey,” came the low bassy voice of his soon-to-be sire.

 

Jack gulped, almost unable to find his voice. “Hi.”

 

Mark approached him in the dark, looking like he was truly on a mission this time, to finally finish what he had started so long ago.

 

“I think Anti is gone,” Jack told his friend, trying to make the situation less tense. The vampire blinked.

 

“Gone?”

 

“Well…” Jack tossed his head side to side. “I remember bein’ in the coma. I remember bein’ all by myself there in that place. Anti wasn’t there, and since I woke up, I’ve felt this…emptiness. In my head, y’know.”

 

“Yeah, I think.”

 

“Anyways,” Jack began, “I think it’s funny. Like, I’m about to become a vampire, but I’ve not had that long as a human without Anti always naggin’ at me.” He laughed nervously and Mark smiled.

 

“The way life goes, I guess.” Mark came closer.

 

“I didn’t tell Amber goodbye.” The realization of this hit Jack and almost made him ill. “I just couldn’t do it.”

 

“Sometimes the best goodbyes are the ones we don’t talk about.” Mark’s hand reached out, a cold and alien feeling on Jack’s cheek, to slowly push his head to the side.

 

“I—I…I suppose.” The human gulped, his heart racing. “Mark, I’m—“

 

“Shh,” the vampire coaxed, caressing Jack’s jawline. “Let’s just not talk about it, okay? We’re out of time. We can’t screw this up anymore.”

 

“I’m scared,” Jack squeaked through a nearly-closed throat. Mark could hear how his protégé’s heartbeat was racing, could sense the adrenaline pumping through his veins. It only made him hungrier.

 

“Jack, it’s over,” the Korean explained, annoyance in his tone. “Your human story is finished. But your vampire story is just beginning.”

 

No matter how Mark tried to paint it, Jack couldn’t shake how truly, absolutely terrified he was. Even if Anti wasn’t here with him anymore, it almost made him feel worse by going into this alone. That thought made him have to check himself—he didn’t _want_ Anti with him, did he?

 

But he recalled what the god had told him a couple of years ago. That Jack would die, and Anti wouldn’t. He’d “never have to sleep that long again.” What was that supposed to mean? What greater part in this universe did Anti, or _Shesmu_ , play?

 

Mark was close now, and even the immortal himself couldn’t deny the butterflies in his stomach. He was _really_ doing this. No fireworks or fanfare. No final goodbyes, nothing tied up in pretty ribbon. It was just _happening_ , as it should have years ago. He cursed himself for being so stupid up until this point, and he sincerely hoped there would be no further consequences due to his actions. And he remembered that he was going to have all his memories back, furthering his commitment to the plan.  

 

He leaned in, fangs hovering just over the jugular vein that was so blue and prominent against the pale skin of his Irish friend. Jack’s hands tightened into fists as he waited, holding his breath.

 

The teeth sunk in deep, and the pain was excruciating.

 

“Mark…wait…” Jack pleaded against his friend, but it was no use. There was no turning back this time. As his vision began to get hazy, Jack felt himself being snapped back into the world that he was trapped in during his coma—the green haze shrouding everything, the static white noise as the ambience. It was just Jack, back in his hospital room donned in his gown, and another being stood before him.

 

Anti.

 

He stood in Jack’s body, opposite him, staring with those wide, dark eyes. He was smiling and his throat was pouring blood.

 

“It will all be over soon,” Anti said in a sing-song voice, his laughter glitching into several octaves.

 

“ _No_!” the human cried.

 

Somehow, he mustered the strength to break away from Mark’s iron grip, stumbling haphazardly up the stairs, using his hands to lift him where his feet couldn’t. Despite his earlier show of strength, he used every last bit of it climbing the stairs, and he found his head spinning out of control.

 

The last thing he remembered was tumbling backwards into his bathtub, the shower curtain entrapping him.


	28. Crimson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Solace my game, solace my game  
> It stars you  
> Swing wide your crane, swing wide your crane  
> And run me through.
> 
> And the story's all over you  
> In the morning I'll call you  
> Can't you find a clue when your eyes are all painted Sinatra blue?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELP HELP HELP this was so hard to write omg ugh y'all im dead
> 
> SUPER WARNING of r*pe if that isn't your thing PLS SKIP

With each and every final, straining pump of his heart, Jack felt himself being pulled into the darkness.

 

He reached forward toward nothing, toward no one, as his consciousness failed him.

 

He was outside of his own body, then. He saw Mark pulling him in, slashing his own throat open as he allowed the newborn vampire to feed from him. Jack yelled, waving his arms wildly, trying to get his attention, but it was just like every time Anti took control of him.

 

Anti.

 

The god was in front of him suddenly, his palms open and long clawed fingers pointing to the sky.

 

“It’s time,” came a demonic voice from nowhere. Jack realized it was Anti communicating with him telepathically.

 

“Don’t do this,” Jack begged. Every word was a nightmare to utter, like it was taking years for his mouth to move once his brain processed the thought.

 

The voice spoke again, slowly starting to sound more like the Anti that Jack had grown accustomed to.

 

“We are called to fulfill the Prophecy,” Anti explained, voice echoing and booming through the space, his dark eyes filled with madness. A grin eased across his lips as he reached forward, grappling Jack by his throat to lift him from the floor.

 

The human watched with horror as Anti’s other clawed hand came toward him, plunging through Jack’s chest cavity. His mouth gaped open in agony as the god closed a fist around his heart.

 

“Goodbye, Seán.”

 

Before he could feel the effect of the god tearing his heart from his chest, his eyes rolled backward and he was forcefully thrust into an everlasting, empty realm of nothingness.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Once he had taken complete control, Anti fled from Mark. The god was able to remember everything about Jack’s life since he had awakened within him, much to the chagrin of his vampire sire, he was sure. He ran with his new body, getting adjusted to the inhuman speed, in the direction of Mark’s house.

 

He was starving, and he knew exactly what he craved.

 

Mark’s pace was slower, and it agonized him to move at such a speed. His bones still ached from performing the transformation, and once Jack drank from him, he realized that he had virtually no blood in his system.

 

The scent of the new vampire was stronger toward the woods, so Mark followed that trail as cautiously and quickly as he could. As he left the residential area, a flash of light from nowhere nearly blinded him. He held the side of his head, a seething pain spidering across his scalp, as he collided into a tree, falling face first into the dirt.

 

A woman’s blood-chilling scream haunted his mind. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the dark forest before him, but instead he saw blood. Blood all over a hardwood floor, lit by candlelight. A child standing like a deer in headlights, her lip split open, crying as she held her face.

 

“Father…” the little girl cried. “What did I do?”

 

She was speaking German, but Mark understood every word of it.

 

“Wilford.”

 

Mark looked toward the voice above him. It was the woman he had seen brief flashes of before. The woman that was assumed to be his wife.

 

“Charlotte…” Mark’s voice was broken as he said the name that he couldn’t recall before now. “Charlotte, please, I’m so sorry.” His German, despite having not practiced in decades, was perfect.

 

“You’re a _drunk_ ,” Charlotte exclaimed, her sea-foam eyes ablaze. She grabbed the young girl, allowing her to weep into her bosom. “Stay away from us. Get the hell out!”

 

“No…wait…” Mark begged.

 

“ _Leave_ , Wilford!”

 

Mark glimpsed once more at the visage of the crying girl. Her hair was the same color as Charlotte’s—the chestnut brown with the kinks intact. But her eyes were Mark’s… _Wilford_ ’ _s_. Deep and rich chocolate, the hint of his Korean mother playing at the shape of them.

 

His little girl.

 

“A…Amelie…” Mark reached toward them from the ground, tears filling his eyes. “I am so sorry…”

 

In a blur, he was returned to the forest, and he couldn’t determine which moment—the present or the past—was more frightening and cruel. 

 

Anti arrived in only minutes on the doorstep of the townhouse, using his enhanced hearing to listen in on the small stirs around the kitchen. Katherine was putting away dishware and Blake was lounging on the couch, playing with one of Mark’s gaming systems. The vampire smirked to himself, and he gave a small tap on the door with his nails.

 

“Blake, could you get the door, please?” Katherine called from an opposite room.

 

The young boy groaned, the springs in the couch relenting against his movement. Tiny footsteps padded to the front door. He didn’t even bother to glance through the peephole before opening the door—stupid child.

 

To Blake, the person standing at the door was Jack. But even the preteen boy could sense that something was off about him.

 

“Hey, what’s up?” Blake asked, suspicion in his voice.

 

Anti grabbed both sides of his small face in his hands, twisting sharply, the sickening _crack_ of his vertebrae the preamble to the life draining from his eyes. With a thud, Blake fell to the floor, wide eyes staring at nothing.

 

Katherine came from another room, not bothering to look up.

 

“Blake, who was at—“

 

“Jack” was in front of the older woman out of nowhere, and she gasped, stumbling backwards and dropping the book she was carrying. She held her chest. Anti could hear her heart pounding.

 

“Oh, God, Jack,” she exhaled. “Where is Blake?”

 

“Dead,” Anti told her in his perfect imitation of Jack’s voice. “You’ll be joining him soon.”

 

Katherine didn’t have time to react before Anti covered her mouth, sinking his fangs deep into her neck. He drained her quickly, allowing her body to fall to the kitchen floor. She grasped to the tiniest bit of life left in her, long enough to see her son lying across the room from her. Her heart shattered after realizing exactly what had just happened. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

 

Anti leaned down, resting on his haunches, to smile at her, Katherine’s blood staining his brand new fangs.

 

“Wh—what…what…are…you…?” the redhead stammered, breathing becoming more and more shallow by the second.

 

His response was a guttural growl.

 

“ _God_.”

 

The new vampire grabbed a handful of Katherine’s hair and slammed her face into the linoleum, a splatter of blood and brains flying about.

 

“Hmph,” Anti exhaled. “Whoops.”

 

He guessed he didn’t realize his own strength yet.

 

Mark was still rushing as fast as he could toward his house, but the scent of Anti was fading away with each passing moment. He was trying not to focus on his “memory” from earlier…if that’s what he could even call it.

 

The second he thought he was going to catch a break, another flash of white brought him to his knees.

 

His mother was crying, praying in Korean for him not to leave. Mark looked down and his hand was being held outward, his father clutching his wrist. It was starting to hurt, and Mark tried to pull away.

 

“Wilford, stop, please!” his mother begged in her native language.

 

“Mother, I—“

 

“You _ever_ lay a hand on me again,” his father growled in German, “you will lose it. Do you understand?”

 

Mark backed away, frightened by the power in his father’s voice. He didn’t realize he could be so scared of anyone in his life, but the fear flooded back into him.

 

“You stay away from that painted whore,” his father spat. “You will marry a clean woman. A girl from the village. She will keep your bloodline strong.”

 

“ _Your_ bloodline,” Mark hissed. “Let me be. I tire of this.”

 

“Wilford!”

 

The strong hand of his father struck him hard across the jaw and he knew it would be bruised by morning.

 

Mark came back to reality again, tears welled up in his eyes as he clawed the ground. A rage boiled in him and he wanted to scream into the void, but he knew he had a much more important mission. Getting to his feet once more, his head swimming and aching, he trudged onward.

 

Anti was standing in the doorway of the guest room that Amber inhabited. The girl rose from her blanket fort, turning on the bedside lamp as he closed the door behind him with a loud creak.

 

“Jack?” the girl asked in a groggy voice, still half-asleep. “I thought you were staying at your place tonight. You never called.”

 

Anti bit his lip, trying to recollect how Jack would react.

 

“I’m sorry, dear,” he cooed, inching closer to the bed. “Mark and I just had a lot to talk about.”

 

“It’s okay,” Amber said, sitting up in bed and stretching. The god listened to the soft thump of her heart—music to his ears.

 

“Where is Mark now?” she asked after there was silence for a while. “I mean…shouldn’t he be coming back home?”

 

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Anti promised, feigning a reassuring grin.

 

Amber squinted, tilting her head. “Are you alright? You don’t look so good.”

 

“What do you mean, love?”

 

“Your skin’s really pale. And your eyes are super dark underneath. And…” She leaned closer, studying a tiny fleck of red just under his chin. “…is that…blood?”

 

“Oh, come now…” The green-haired man got onto his hands and knees, crawling like a predatory cat toward unsuspecting prey. Amber instinctively lay back until she was almost completely reclined, feeling powerless under his control. He leaned forward toward her neck, kissing gently along her collarbone and up the soft skin of her throat before nibbling on her earlobe.

 

Something felt wrong to her, but she couldn’t place what it was. She wasn’t in any position to fight back, and so she went along for the ride.

 

His lips were against her ear now, and she felt him smile.

 

“…aren’t I doing a good job pretending to be him?”

 

Her blood ran cold and she could swear her heart stopped. Her gaze met his—her wide-eyed panic a huge offset to his serene, hungry glower.

 

“Get away from me—“ she growled, but her words were cut short by Anti grabbing both her wrists to pin her to the bed. Amber gasped, struggling to break free, but he was far too strong.

 

“I can’t believe you bought it!” Anti was filled with glee that his trick had worked, and he squeezed harder on her wrists, cutting off circulation.

 

“Let me _go_ , Anti!” She was starting to hyperventilate, her heart racing in her own ears. “Mark will be here soon!”

 

“Ah, yes…” the god recalled. “Speak of the little devil…he should be nearing the house by now.” His eyes drifted off toward some other realm that Amber wasn’t part of as if he were calculating something. When he looked back at her, the gorgeous baby blue eyes that she had known and loved were replaced with an eerie crimson.

 

“Guess we’ll have to make this quick,” he teased.

 

Taking one hand from her wrist, he used his sharp black vampire claws to slice open her nightshirt, drawing a little blood as he scraped down the flesh. Her breasts fell out and she gasped, turning away from his gaze as her face flushed red.

 

“I think I’ll be generous,” the newborn immortal began, “and let you in on a couple of secrets.”

 

Amber didn’t have it in her to prompt him onward.

 

“Your mother and brother are dead,” he told her cheerfully. “Katherine’s blood…was delicious.” 

 

She turned her head to face him, teeth grinding furiously against each other.

 

“Liar.”

 

“Maria…Katherine…McLoughlin.” Each word was like a stab in her chest, painfully drawn out while he traced a finger up and down her bare chest.

 

“What _about_ her?” she asked once the answer wasn’t clear.

 

“Do you know why she died?” His question was almost like an innocent school-boy asking why the sky was blue. Fury engulfed her and she swallowed, her eyes blazing. She chose not to even grace him with a response.

 

“Your prenatal vitamins,” Anti continued when she said nothing. “Those…weren’t actually vitamins. They were diet pills. And they did very harmful things to your reproductive system. Those aren’t good for babies, you know. Guess you found out the hard way.”

 

“Shut the fuck _up_!” Amber barked. “They weren’t diet pills!”

 

“All it took was three minutes,” the god explained, holding up three clawed fingers. “Three minutes in Jack’s head, without his awareness. I made him pick up the diet pills in the supermarket. I made him throw away your vitamins and replace them with the other pills. He had no idea he had even done it. You took them without realizing. How foolish.” A sickening grin spread across his face, complete with a set of fangs. “You should have known…shouldn’t you?”

 

Amber shrieked, thrashing about wildly beneath the vampire, wishing more than anything that she could rip him apart. Anti threw his head back, laughing at her misery. Instead of engaging her further, he hummed to himself, reaching down to run his hand up her shorts. She jumped at his cold touch, feeling him rubbing gentle fingers along her labia.

 

“Now…I’ll finally have you all to myself…” he moaned, pressing his hardness against her lower belly. “I don’t have to share with Jack anymore.”

 

“You’re fucking sick,” Amber spat, glaring up at him. “You’ve never had me.”

 

“Aw, so Jack never told you our little secret, then?” The god laughed wickedly. “Our boy was always so very absorbed in his own head.” He pulled his hand from her crotch, licking his fingers clean of the moisture that had gathered below.  

 

“What have you _done_ with him?!” Her voice faltered on the verge of hysterics.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Anti informed her. “It’s over now.”

 

“What—“

 

Again, she was cut off—this time by Anti ripping her pajama shorts off her, leaving her in just her panties. He glanced her over once, twice, a gleam of satisfaction in his red eyes. Anti pulled off Jack’s black v-neck t-shirt—Amber’s favorite of his—and stripped his jeans down in one quick motion. Grabbing a fistful of her curly locks, he pulled harshly to expose her throat, his other hand forcing her legs apart before reaching up to grab her by the throat. He leaned down again to press his lips to her ear, and she felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, whimpering in fear. 

 

“We are going to have so much _fun_ , little bird.”

 

Mark arrived home much later than he had anticipated, stumbling heavily through the front door. The lifeless bodies of Blake and Katherine lay waiting for him like some kind of sick gift from the god of death himself. He didn’t have much time to focus on them—in his guest room, he could hear the soft whimpers of Amber and the sound of the bed rocking back and forth.

 

A cold, dark feeling twisted his guts and he swallowed, creeping ever closer to the scene he already knew was going to make him regret looking. He could make out a shadow on the wall: the physical form of Jack towering over Amber as he continued to pound away at her.

 

Taking one final, deep breath, he stepped just inside the doorway to the room.

 

The mattress, sheets, and pillows were stained dark red, some of it dripping onto the floor below, some splattered like a child’s painting above the headboard. Anti paid Mark no mind as he continued to slowly fuck the life out of the helpless woman. Amber’s hazy eyes found Mark standing across the room from her. Her throat was ripped open completely, vocal cords exposed.

 

“Mark…” she managed in a hoarse strain.

 

He knew there was nothing he could do.

 

“Come to save them, did you?” Anti asked without acknowledging the older vampire, keeping his stroke going. “You’re a little late. Although if you’re up for it…” The green-haired vampire turned his head to glance over his shoulder. Amber’s blood was dripping from his lips, warm and thick, running in haphazard lines down his chest. “…you can have a turn with her. She’s still plenty warm.”

 

Mark wanted to be sick. If he had just been able to get here faster…

 

He felt weak and powerless against the new vampire, the smell of human blood all around his townhouse making him salivate, as much as he didn’t want to admit.

 

With a deep, sensual moan, Anti dismounted Amber, pulling his boxers up over his hips and stepping off the bed. The girl was dying, unable to move or speak or cry.

 

“Go for it,” Anti said to his sire. “You can have the rest of her blood, too.”

 

The Korean stared with empty eyes at Amber’s face as he stepped toward her. He wished this were a nightmare. He wished he were about to wake up and none of this would be real. His legs carried him without his brain having to think about it, moving in autopilot.

 

He sat with her, just to the left of the bloodstains, his hand on the side of her face.

 

She felt very cold. She was almost gone. The life in her eyes had drained, and only shallow breaths escaped her once every few moments. Mark stroked her cheek, his heart broken.

 

“I’m so, so sorry, Amber,” the vampire admitted. “I should have been here.” He choked back the urge to weep for her. “…I should have been here for you.”

 

A single tear escaped Amber’s glazed blue eyes, and her lips trembled with words that she didn’t have the physical strength to say.

 

Mark squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed her chin. He tried to imagine he was anywhere else, tried not to listen as he jerked her head harshly upwards and to the left, the bones in her neck snapping softly. He waited for her final exhale before opening his eyes again.

 

“You’re no fun,” Anti groaned, picking up the clothes he had pulled off earlier. His words ripped Mark out of his moment with the dying girl that he considered a lifeline in a dire time of need.

 

In his weakened state, Mark retreated into the back of his head, opting to feel numb rather than angry or sad. There was no time for any outbursts. All of this was completely his fault, and he knew it.

 

He looked down, discovering that Amber’s bracelet from her mother—with the nightingale pendant—was still wrapped around her wrist. Pulling it off quickly, he pocketed the jewelry, hoping that Anti hadn’t noticed.

 

An exasperated sigh escaped the vampire god.

 

“Alright,” Anti began, “it’s time to get the hell out of here.”

 

Mark followed behind him, reluctantly, giving one last look to the lifeless corpse of Amber lying on the bed. Her shameful position—naked, spread open, throat torn out—was almost too much for him. He turned, no longer able to bear it, and went with Anti out the door.

 

The god stopped just inside the threshold to the townhouse once Mark was outside in the yard, turning to look back inside. Anti placed his hand on the light switch to the right of the door, focusing his energy on it. Mark heard a crackle of electricity and saw his lights flickering on and off. Anti squeezed his eyes shut, brows knitting together, concentrating as hard as he could on whatever it was he was doing.

 

After a few seconds, sparks flew from the electrical outlets inside the house, jumping onto the rugs and catching fire. It was only a moment later that Mark saw flames beginning to come together.

 

He stood in the grass, Anti at his side, and watched as the townhouse blazed high into the night sky.

 

“We need to go,” Mark told him once they had watched the fire engulf the house. “We can’t be seen here.”

 

Anti nodded, his lips pressed tight together.

 

“I’ll drive,” he told Mark.

 

They hopped into the vehicle, and Mark had no idea what to expect for the rest of the evening, or for the rest of his life.

 

His ultimate mission was to save Jack, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try everything he could.


	29. Be a Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lift the mattress off the floor  
> Walk the cramps off  
> Go meander in the cold  
> Hail to your dark skin  
> Hiding the fact you're dead again  
> Underneath the power lines seeking shade  
> Far above our heads are the icy heights   
> That contain all reason."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y I K E S 
> 
> that's all I'm gonna say. Love y'all thank you for still reading :3

For the first time in hours, Mark sat alone on the motel bed, processing exactly everything that had happened earlier in the evening.

 

It was late—or early, depending on how time was perceived. The clock read 4:15 a.m.

 

Anti had brought them to the roadside motel where Jack’s parents died, because of course he would. He manipulated the concierge in the grim, stuffy room on the first “floor” into letting the two stay in Room 207, the exact room where it happened, because of course he would. Mark was too numb to protest. He knew it was probably his mind playing tricks on him, but he could swear he still smelled their blood.

 

The Korean vampire grit his teeth together as he stared at the television screen. Some sort of half-hour infomercial was on, in all its grainy glory, selling a type of bag that was discreet enough to conceal not only cosmetics, but a handgun all in one place. Humans truly had a peculiar set of needs.

 

Anti’s annoying cackle rang out in the back of his head, and he remembered what the monster had told him before he left on his adventure to find another meal.

 

“It was very simple to do it,” the green-haired vampire said over his shoulder, nonchalant while he plopped down the backpack filled with Jack’s personal items. “To kill them, I mean.”

 

“Kill who?” Mark had asked in a monotone voice once he found his place on the bed from which he wouldn’t move for hours.

 

“The parents,” Anti scoffed. “Duh.” He walked over to Mark, shuffling through the stack of legal documents that the vampire had carefully packed away. “Did you know you could just walk right into a Walmart and get a shotgun and _leave_ the store with it?” Anti grinned, pleased with himself, while his eyes continued to scan over the papers. “The rope, I found in someone’s shed. Geniuses forgot to lock it up for the night. Asking for it, if you ask me.”

 

Mark was silent, trying to ignore his ever-growing hunger. He needed to feed, but he didn’t want to give Anti any smidgeon of satisfaction.

 

“Once I got here, of course,” the god continued, “it was smooth sailing. I walked in, Mommy and Daddy’s faces lit up…their Jackie had come to get them after all.” Throwing the papers into a haphazard pile, he pocketed whatever he was looking for and turned to click on the television. Mark stared straight through the screen. “I looked into their eyes…and I told them…”

 

He was bending down to Mark then, trying to meet the older immortal’s gaze. “…I said, ‘Mommy, you’re really gonna wanna take this rope into the shower and string yourself up.’ No questions asked. She nodded and went straight away. I helped her with the knots.” He stood upright again, flexing his fingers with his new black vampire claws. “Daddy was a little more difficult…but he listened, after I told him that I wasn’t really their Jackie-Boy. Damn…that was a mess. I stayed around long enough to watch him do it, to make sure I wasn’t losing my flair.” The green-haired man chuckled, making his way toward the window. Mark said nothing.

 

“Oh!” Anti remembered suddenly. “The security cameras. That was an easy fix. Just…” The Irish vampire wiggled his fingers, extending them outward toward Mark. “…deactivate them all. Simple.”  

 

Mark’s head reeled relentlessly, all the words beginning to blend together in a toxic cesspool. Anti had made sure to tell him on the ride to the motel about what he had done to little Maria, about every excruciating detail involving the deaths of the Stewart family, about Jack’s perfectly-timed coma...

 

“Ah, these are so cool,” Anti whispered to himself, pulling Mark out of his daydream. The Korean glanced out of the corner of his eye to see the god distracted by his black claws, retracting and extending them over and over with a sickening grin on his face.

 

If one thing was certain, it was that Anti _loved_ to hear himself talk. Mark was thankful that his horrid baby-voice was gone, replaced by Jack’s…although it was nauseating to hear some of the filth Anti spoke of with Jack’s voice. Little time passed before the new vampire started again.

 

“You’re coming out, right?” Anti questioned as he put on a hooded sweatshirt.

 

Not surprisingly, there was no response from Mark.

 

“Hey,” the god whispered, trying to get the distracted immortal’s attention. “ _Hey_!” He was snapping his fingers in his face then, and Mark’s gaze became less blurry so that he could give the monster the attention he didn’t deserve.

 

“You are coming with me to get food,” Anti growled, “ _right_?”

 

Mark’s soft brown eyes narrowed into a glare. “I’m not hungry.”

 

“Bullshit,” Anti scoffed. “Whatever. Starve, then.”

 

Stomping over to the door, clearly ruffled and in a bad mood, Anti placed his hand on the doorknob, freezing in place.

 

“You know,” he spoke to Mark over his shoulder, “you should consider getting over being a little bitch. I like you better when you’re an asshole.”

 

The infomercial droned on while Mark traced the outline of Amber’s bracelet in his pocket. Anti had been gone for nearly three hours.

 

His head was completely calm. No nightmarish memories coming back to haunt him. No visions of his other families. He knew he didn’t have all of his memories back, and he wasn’t sure that he really wanted them.

 

Mark heard the sound of footsteps and what was perhaps a muffled sort of crying. A woman. There were the loud footsteps—Anti—and the uncertain, hesitant footsteps—his victim. Of fucking course.

 

Anti burst through the door, dragging a petrified woman with a bandana tied over her mouth by her frizzy blonde hair. Makeup was smeared down her face from crying, and her hands were zip-tied together. Upon seeing Mark, she froze, sniffling behind her gag.

 

“Marquinhos,” Anti chirped, towing the girl forcefully behind him. “I know you were in a pissy little mood earlier, so I thought I’d bring dinner home for you.”

 

Mark’s brown eyes were hollow as he looked upon the helpless woman. She was dressed for a dance club, he assumed, but had been tousled so much that her short red dress was torn in some places. Her knees were bruised, covered in dirt and dried blood from most likely tripping in her broken heels. He tried so hard to pity her…but he just couldn’t force the feeling.

 

Anti removed the gag from her mouth and she sucked in a huge breath, trying not to openly sob or cry for help. She looked to Mark, both nervous and hopeful about this strange man who only stared at her, searching for some faint sense of remorse in his dark eyes.

 

“Please, sir,” she wept, “please. I have no idea who you are. If you want money, or…if you guys want to…if you wanna take turns with me, or whatever…”

 

The Irishman started to chuckle, throwing her down onto her knees on the carpet.

 

“She _did_ give us permission, Mark,” Anti joked.

 

“Shut up.” Mark’s response was cold, not missing a beat. “Just let her go. I told you I’m not hungry.”

 

“You are the most miserable little shit,” Anti whined, exhaling frustration. He walked over toward Mark, grabbing his sire by the throat. The older vampire kept his cool, not growing tense or angry by Anti’s cold hand grasping him. He simply stared at the younger, foolish creature.

 

“What are you gonna do?” Mark rasped with a sly grin. “Kill me?”

 

“You fucking wish.”

 

Anti’s newborn strength was enough to help him lift Mark from the bed and throw him down on the floor in front of the kneeling girl. She stared wide-eyed at the man before her, praying that divine intervention would save her somehow.

 

The vampire-god leaned down, placing his hands on his knees, to Mark’s ear.

 

“You haven’t eaten since I was turned,” Anti reminded him. “You _are_ hungry. I can sense it. Why don’t you put this wretched thing out of her misery?”

 

Mark had to admit, shamefully, that Anti’s offer sounded very pleasant in this moment. He had to admit that he suddenly caught the scent of the young woman’s blood, making him realize just how ravenous he really was. The girl noticed that the Korean’s eyes had softened from a hard glare to a look of curiosity, of thirst, of…lust, almost. Her heart nearly stopped.

 

Anti could sense all of this, too. He smiled.

 

“Go on, Mark,” he prodded, gently pushing the vampire forward a little. “Drink up. She’s all yours.”

 

The voices in his head that usually shrieked at him to stop, hold back, calm himself…they were gone. They were replaced with Anti, guiding him forward toward a crimson paradise.

 

He hadn’t realized he had drained her completely until she was limp in his arms, already starting to grow cold. His teeth had torn through the soft skin of her neck with ease, ripping into the vein like a rabid animal, not ceasing until there was nothing left. Her throat reminded him of what Anti had done to Amber’s.

 

He wanted more. He _needed_ more.  


Looking up to Anti, he absentmindedly licked his upper lip, waiting for any kind of response.

 

“That was nice, wasn’t it?” the god in Jack’s body asked. Mark only nodded, the numbness fading to self-awareness.

 

Anti knelt down opposite Mark, resting his hands on his bent knees. Mark stared at him, still holding the girl’s corpse. Neither of them spoke for several minutes, and for the first time, Anti wasn’t sure what to say anymore.

 

“Where are my memories?” the Korean-German asked, his voice small and emotionless. “I didn’t…get them all back.”

 

A knowing grin spread across Anti’s face.

 

“I have them,” he responded. Mark cocked his head to one side.

 

“Why?”

 

“Do you really want them?”

 

The dark-haired vampire cracked his neck slowly, still staring at Anti.

 

“Yes.”

 

Anti took a slow, calculated breath, tapping his fingertips on his knees. Mark could almost see the cogs rotating in his brain.

 

“There is something that even you don’t know about vampirism, Marquinhos,” the god began, “something that…no one has ever told you.”

 

Mark waited while Anti collected his thoughts.

 

“ _The Prophecy_ made it seem random,” Anti went on. “Like, they were just picking names out of a hat when they decided the bloodlines. But there is…darkness. There is a darkness in the human before he is turned. A darkness that eventually consumes him.”

 

More silence. Both were motionless.

 

“It’s what makes the vampire who he eventually becomes, for better or for worse. Every vampire has a darkness, but not everyone with darkness becomes a vampire. Lucien was a hired assassin. Amelia was a slave who poisoned her masters and her lover. Ingram was a vengeful and greedy prince. Gianna was dying from pneumonia...although she would have gone on to be a prostitute if she’d made it to adulthood.”

 

“How do you know all this…?” Mark interrupted, suspiciously eyeing the other.

 

Anti’s grin didn’t falter. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Mark. But we’ll have plenty of time to figure each other out.” He shifted on his knees. “Meanwhile…”

 

The Irishman’s sharp claws rushed toward Mark’s head, holding his temples in place. Mark’s eyes rolled backward, glazed completely white, before he had time to react to Anti’s attack.

 

He was back in the past again, in a dark forest, a musket in his hands as he raced toward the setting sun. Mark felt fear in his heart, edging him onward, the unknown assailant nearly catching up to him.

 

A shot rang out behind him, close enough to strike the bark of the tree just to his left. He turned quickly, pointing his gun toward the source of where the bullet came from.

 

“Enough running, Wilford,” a man’s voice yelled menacingly before a figure emerged from the brush. He was tall, wild-looking, with a shaggy black beard and eyes filled with rage. “It’s over.”

 

“Go back to your village, Peter,” Wilford taunted, “or I’ll drag your corpse there.” He swiftly loaded another round of ammunition into his firearm.

 

“Such courage for a man who has been running away all this time!” The huge man laughed, taking one step toward him. “Stealing a woman from me is a death sentence.” Peter began to load his own gun. “You are very lucky to have made it this long without my finding you.”

 

“Quiet, you _hurensohn_! She never wanted to wed you!”

 

As “Wilford” raised his musket to aim at Peter’s chest, he was struck first. A warm liquid began to stain his shirt and he stumbled backward, holding a hand over his ribs. Wilford’s musket fell to the forest floor and he groaned, collapsing face-first into the dirt.

 

A ceaseless pain washed over him, carrying him under the choppy waves of death, before he opened his eyes to see a blurry Lucien cradling him on the ground, a distraught Amelia standing behind him. 

 

“Hold still,” Lucien whispered in German. His eyes were deep red. “We are here to help you.”

 

Mark’s eyes readjusted and he was again staring at Anti. His breathing was ragged and heavy as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

 

“I was…I don’t understand,” the Korean whispered.

 

“You went against what your father wanted, and you married a woman who was meant for another,” Anti explained. “You knew it, too. You and Charlotte ran away to live by the sea in Prussia, where you had begun to raise a family. You were always violent, and a drunk, and you would lash out at your wife and your little girl. You blamed it on your bastard father for beating your mother all the time. I suppose it would be hard as an impressionable child to grow up in a home with such despair.”

 

“No, I…” Mark gulped, his mouth suddenly dry. “What happened to them? Charlotte and Amelie? I thought…I thought the last time I saw Charlotte, she hadn’t had Amelie yet.”

 

“She was pregnant with your _second_ child,” the god told him. “A little boy. You hadn’t decided on a name yet. Remember, your memories didn’t come back to you chronologically. It doesn’t really work like that.”

 

Despite what he _should_ be feeling, Mark felt nothing. No guilt. No remorse. No sadness.

 

“You know what happened to them, too,” Anti said. “Charlotte and Amelie. Don’t you?”

 

Mark shook his head, racking his brain for the memories of his first few years as a vampire.

 

“Lucien and Amelia were so ashamed when they found you,” the green-haired immortal told him, giving a slight scowl. “Hovered over the little girl. You turned to face them—“

 

Mark saw a blinding light again, and was back in the place of his former self. Warm blood dripped sickly-thick from his lips and chin as he looked at his new vampire parents, unsure as to why they were staring at him like he was some sort of monster.

 

“Oh, Marquinhos…” Amelia cried, looking like she was about to be sick.

 

Lucien sucked in a breath. “I told you he was not yet ready to hunt with us.”

 

Mark remembered. He remembered that he had gotten away from the pair while they were out together looking for food. It was his first time out of the cage they had locked him in, “for his own safety,” they assured him. He was only three weeks old. They hadn’t relocated from Prussia. _Why_ hadn’t they left Prussia?

 

Why was his wife and child the first meal he had?

 

He didn’t know these humans. Didn’t remember them. He was just confused as to why his new parents were so upset at him.

 

Charlotte lay on her back in the opposite room, her flesh already cold, the bulge of her stomach unmoving. The tears that were streaming down little Amelie’s face were still glistening in the darkness.

 

“…Father?” she had said, her tiny voice full of fear, as Marquinhos the fledgling creature of the night came for her in her bedroom, her mother’s blood on his face and his hands, his _wife’s_ blood, and symbolically the blood of their would-be son.

 

He never understood why this child had called out to her father when her father was the one that would take her life.

 

And still…even in this sickening realization…Mark felt _nothing_.

 

“You were always a monster, Mark,” Anti said, bringing him back to reality. “So… _be a monster_. It’s your destiny.”

 

Frozen in place, trying to reach deep into his core to find the slightest spark of what made him the vampire he used to be, Mark contemplated everything. He felt alone, regardless of the corpse on his lap, regardless of the being that had taken his best friend sitting across from him.

 

And then, suddenly, the light that flickered at the end of the proverbial darkest tunnel faded to nothing.

 

“Now, you and I,” Anti began, “are going to have some fun. Okay?” The fledgling stood, dusting off his knees, to make his way toward the mini-fridge that he had stocked with beer earlier.

 

“First thing’s first,” he told Mark, “we’re going to get this green shit on my head taken care of in the morning.” He popped the cap from a bottle of Coors and tilted it back, nearly downing half of its contents in a few seconds. “Then we’re going on a trip.”

 

Mark pushed the dead girl off his lap carelessly, standing to move toward the refrigerator. Anti handed him a beer with a friendly smile, and the Korean grinned at his new partner, twisting the cap from the bottle. He toasted his protégé, the _clink_ of the glass ringing in his ears.

 

“Where did you have in mind?”


	30. Made You Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When I was a man, I thought it ended  
> When I knew love's perfect ache  
> But my peace has always depended  
> On all the ashes in my wake  
> All you have is your fire  
> And the place you need to reach  
> Don't you ever tame your demons  
> But always keep 'em on a leash."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeyyyyy
> 
> If y'all dig Hozier you should check the song above, called "Arsonist's Lullaby." I think it describes Jack pretty well, at least in this AU. Thanks again as always!!

“ _Hmmmm_.”

 

Anti’s lips were pursed, his fingers brushing the soft hairs of his freshly-shaven beard, while he looked in the mirror at the woman standing behind him.

 

“I think a little more off the top would do,” he told her, grinning at his shapeless self in the black salon cape.

 

The middle-aged hairdresser ran her fingers through his newly-dyed dark hair, calculating exactly how much she should take off with her scissors. Pinching a small lock between her first two fingers, she met Anti’s eyes in the mirror.

 

“Maybe another half-inch?” The vampire mulled over the thought, finally nodding.

 

The woman worked away on his hair, humming to herself in between popping huge pink bubbles with her bubblegum. A 90s alternative station played softly in the background of the barber shop. A blond-haired man sat off to Anti’s right, singing the song under his breath while his artist worked on his hair.

 

Anti glanced out of the corner of his eye at the man, who was seemingly in his own world.

 

“Hey,” the Irishman whispered, pulling the other man out of his daydream. The stranger looked over into icy blue eyes, trying not to move his head too much.

 

“Er…yeah?” the young man asked.

 

Anti pointed upwards at his emerging hairstyle. “Does this look ‘modern’ to you?”

 

The blond man’s eyes narrowed. “I guess so.” His tone sounded confused. “It looks good, man.”

 

“Thanks,” Anti beamed, kicking his feet playfully as he turned back to the mirror.

 

On the television screen above was the horrific scene from the previous night. Anti looked up just in time to catch a news story about Mark’s mysteriously blazing townhouse. The other man’s ears perked up, and the woman cutting his hair turned up the volume a little.

 

“…on the scene in the early hours of this morning,” the newscaster finished. “Investigators discovered three confirmed fatalities—two women and a young child. The bodies are unable to be identified at this time.”

 

“Jesus,” Anti’s hairdresser exhaled. “That’s awful.”

 

“Who lived there, I wonder?” the other lady questioned aloud.

 

Anti held back his laughter.

 

After another half-hour, Anti was finally pleased with his new look. The other man in the shop had left hurriedly, whispering to his beautician at the door about how Anti was giving him “the creeps.” Soon it was just Anti and his own hairdresser left in the room while he made his way to the cash register to pay her for her services.

 

“Oh…shit,” the god cursed, fumbling around his pockets for his wallet. “I, er, I think I forgot my money in the car.” He pointed his thumb outside. “I can go grab it really quick.”

 

“Sure thing, sweetie,” she told him absentmindedly, bending down below the counter to grab her emery board before raising back up to close the cash register.

 

Mark appeared behind her, slamming her forehead into the marble countertop. He didn’t force her skull hard enough to kill her—but a concussion wasn’t out of the question. The Korean began to grab some of the cash from the drawer, handing a few bills off to Anti.

 

“Good timing,” the new vampire mused. “What’d you do with the other one?”

 

Mark looked over his shoulder. “Oh, she’s…incapacitated in her own way.”

 

“You kill her?”

 

“She stepped outside and I locked the door behind her.”

 

“Ooh, you’re so _bad_.” Anti rolled his eyes and waved his hands dramatically.

 

They hurried outside to the street without a second thought. Mark hopped into the driver’s seat of his car, putting on his sunglasses.

 

“You hungry?” Anti asked him as he slid into the passenger’s seat.

 

His sire considered the question. “I could eat.”

 

Anti grinned to himself, mussing up his new dark hair in the mirror. “That’s my boy.”

 

* * *

 

Pleasing Anti proved to be an incredibly easy task for Mark, as he had come to find out over the course of the next couple of weeks. All he had to do was party with him and kill with him. It was just like his early days as a vampire with Ingram, who first introduced him to the thrill of taking lives without remorse, back in the days where people dying didn’t necessarily invoke a police investigation. He had to say he missed the simplicity of the 19th century. 

 

He never thought he would go back to _that_ version of himself, but he had rediscovered his affinity for violence and, simultaneously, his talent for it. Mark had kept his secret hidden from Jack for the most part—the human never had to witness what his vampire friend was fully capable of, aside from killing the Karayan vampire that night after Jack had found the dead girl. It was so easy for Mark to get lost in taking a life, in drinking his fill of blood, without worrying about making sure his conscience stayed clean.

 

Somewhere in the Middle of Nowhere, Texas, Mark got a phone call from a restricted number. Puzzled, he stepped out onto the balcony of the hotel he and Anti shared, staring into the evening sun as he picked up the phone.

 

“Hello?” he asked nervously.

 

“Mark.” It was Gianna’s voice. He’d know it anywhere, even though he hadn’t heard it in so long. His heart dropped.

 

“Gianna?”

 

“I’ve been trying to reach you for almost three weeks now.” The young vampire girl’s voice was stern and unwavering.

 

The Korean looked over both shoulders before hopping from the ledge of the second-story balcony, landing gracefully on his feet and retreating quickly toward the gas station near the hotel.

 

“I’ve been busy,” Mark answered nonchalantly, fighting the urge to be rude to his sister.

 

“Yeah, no _shit_ ,” she huffed. “Why’ve you been dodging my calls?”

 

Mark blinked. “I didn’t get any calls.”

 

“Has your phone been off?”

 

“…Maybe.”

 

Gianna sighed deeply. “Look, I can’t stay on here for long—Dad will be coming home soon.” She paused briefly to collect herself. “We know you’ve turned Jack by now.”

 

“Yeah, that was a thing that was supposed to happen.”

 

“Well, yes, but that’s not—“ She stopped, gritting her teeth. “Something felt…wrong. The night you turned him, there was this…I dunno. Bad energy. We all felt it.”

 

“What do you mean?” Mark was aware that when vampires were turned, the names scrawled themselves into _The Prophecy_ , but he had never felt any bizarre “energy” before.

 

“I have no idea,” Gianna answered snidely, “but Mom and Dad are freaking out. Dad is still too proud to contact you, of course.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“They wanted to speak to the Ancients.”

 

Mark froze with his hand on the door of the gas station. “I don’t…I don’t think that’s a good idea, actually.”

 

“Why? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

 

“Look, I’ve gotta go, okay?” He walked into the convenience store and headed straight for the alcohol section. “Don’t worry about anything. I’ve got it under control.”

 

“Unbelievable,” Gianna growled. “Are you coming to Harvest this year or should I expect to never see you again?”

 

“You heard what Father said!” Noticing his voice had grown a little too loud, he softened his tone. “He doesn’t wanna see me.”

 

“Please,” she whispered, mood completely shifting. It almost sounded as if she were about to cry. “Please just come to Harvest. Bring Jack—er… _Janek_ , I guess.”

 

Mark grabbed a bottle of cheap whisky and headed toward the counter. “I’ll think about it.”

 

“Mark—“

 

Before she could finish, he hung up the phone, plopping the bottle onto the counter. A disgruntled-looking Hispanic man scanned it quickly, not looking up from his magazine.

 

“Fifteen eighty-six,” he barked. Mark handed him a twenty and walked out the door, not waiting for his change.

 

Even though it was nearly dark, the heat was still almost suffocating. Mark didn’t think it should still be this hot in November, but he wasn’t very keen on Texas climate anyway. It reminded him of California, albeit a little drier.

 

He walked into the hotel room to Anti tangled up with a woman, both naked on one of the queen-sized beds. She was on top of him, grinding her hips against him while he sucked fervently on her neck.

 

“Where’d you get _that_?” Mark asked, trying to ignore the scene.

 

Anti came up for air, blood coating his teeth. “Room service.” He chuckled darkly, and the woman riding him didn’t stop her pace for a second. She didn’t notice that Mark had come in…perhaps she wasn’t aware she was even in the world.

 

“Literally, like, ‘room service,’ or did you just get a prostitute?”

 

“Shut up,” Anti groaned sensually, “I’m busy.” His eyes, full of hunger, peered into his lover’s gaze above. “Mmm…com’ere, you,” he moaned deep in his throat, pulling her neck down to his mouth by gripping a handful of her short hair.  

 

Mark rolled his eyes as he headed for the door, bottle of whisky in hand, after plugging his phone into the wall charger. “I’ll give you some privacy.” There was no answer from the couple on the bed.

 

He found himself out by the pool that was already closed down for the season, sitting on the edge of it and dangling his feet in what would have been water if it weren’t drained out. He sipped idly on his whisky, looking up at the moon.

 

Footsteps behind him made him jump slightly, and he smelled the scent of perfume. A figure crept around his side, having a seat beside him by the pool.

 

“Need some company?” asked the girl, who couldn’t have been older than eighteen.

 

“I don’t think I’m your type,” Mark scoffed, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

 

“You’d be surprised,” she retorted. “I’m Amber.”

 

“What?” Mark choked out.

 

“Amber?” she repeated. “As in, like, the color?”

 

“Oh.” He took another drink. “I’m Mark.”

 

“Well, hiya, Mark.” The vampire looked over at her finally, after only seeing the outline of her figure and very little of her features. She was heavier-set, clad in a crop top and high-waisted shorts. Her brown hair was long, filled with beach waves, and her skin was tanned slightly. Mark suspected she was of Hispanic origin.

 

“Hiya,” he responded dismissively. “You should probably get back to your parents.”

 

“ _Parents_?” Amber laughed. “Please. I’m here with my friends. We’re going to Dallas tomorrow for the music festival.”

 

“Cool.” He took another swig of whisky.

 

“Can I have some o’ that?” the girl asked, pointing to the bottle.

 

“I dunno, are you old enough?”

 

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” She winked at him, and he grinned cunningly at her. She took it from his hands without another word, taking a huge gulp. Amber winced as she pulled the bottle away from her lips, coughing loudly and beating her chest with a closed fist.

 

“Jesus, that’s strong,” she said breathlessly.

 

“Yup, you are definitely not old enough.” Mark took the bottle away from her and had another drink.

 

“Oh, like you are? What are you, twenty?”

 

“I’m in my two-hundreds, thank you.”

 

Amber laughed. “Two-hundreds. Look at’chu.”

 

Mark finished off the bottle and slammed it down on the concrete next to him.

 

“Damn, I’m still thirsty,” he thought out loud. His head turned slowly to look at the girl next to him.

 

“Well, don’t look at me,” she answered, scooching away from him. “I don’t have any booze.”

 

“That’s not what I’m craving.”

 

Amber’s face turned red. “O—Oh? And…what are you cravin’?” He could tell how nervous she was, how inexperienced, and how completely naïve. He smiled cruelly and his fangs gleamed in the moonlight. He watched her expression go from sultry to shocked to terrified in less time than he expected.

 

“Wh—what the—“

 

Mark cut her off by sinking his fangs into her throat, covering her mouth with his hand so that her shrieks couldn’t be heard. With each swallow, his hunger diminished, ignoring the feeble struggles of the young girl he was drinking from. The loss of blood made her weaker and weaker by the second, and she stopped trying to fight him off. Before she lost consciousness, he grabbed her face in his hands and forced her to look him in the eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she sobbed softly, staring into his deep red gaze.

 

“What are you…?” she managed between sniffles.

 

The Korean’s eyes darkened and his bloody smile was sickening and savage.

 

“A monster.”

 

With a quick twist of her head, her neck snapped and he watched as she tumbled into the empty pool. A loud _crack_ echoed in the concrete as her skull smacked against the bottom of the pool. Mark sat alone for a few more moments, taking calm, deep breaths, while he licked his teeth clean of the blood.

 

He retreated swiftly back to his and Anti’s room, this time being cautious enough to listen before barging into the room. There was no noise, so he assumed it was safe to enter.

 

Anti sat on the bed next to the girl he had inevitably decided to kill, dressed in only his jeans, carefully studying the design of the obsidian dagger that Mark had procured from his grandparents in England. The Korean froze, breath caught in his throat, fighting the urge to turn and run as far away as he could.

 

“Where…where did you get that?” Mark managed after a moment.

 

Paying no mind to the question, Anti spoke without looking up from the blade. “Marquinhos…” His voice was in the lowest of registers, sending chills through Mark. “You would never lie to me, would you?” His soft blue eyes met Mark’s reluctant gaze, the innocence of a child glistening in them contrasting the coldness of his voice. “You would always tell me the truth?”

 

A nervous chuckle escaped the older immortal. “O—of course.”

 

The god hummed to himself, looking back down at the dagger as he turned it over in his hands.

 

“Who were you talking to on the phone?” Anti asked.

 

“I, er…” Mark gulped, then cleared his throat, finding no escape. “Gianna.”

 

Anti’s face lit up. “Gianna.” He repeated the name, savoring it on his tongue. “Little Gianna. How is she doing these days?”

 

The Korean was taken aback by the Irish vampire’s suspicious curiosity. “She’s doing alright.”

 

“Good.” Anti gripped the dagger in his right hand so tight that Mark could see the faint outline of blue veins. “Very good.” His eyes turned on Mark once again, only this time they were a vicious red. Mark took one surprised step backward, falling into the closed door.

 

“Anti, I—“

 

He was cut off by Anti appearing in front of him, a snarl curling his upper lip as he held the dagger against Mark’s throat.

 

“ _Why do you have this_?” the vampire-god seethed, fangs bared as he gripped Mark’s shirt collar to nearly lift him off the floor. “Do you think I don’t know what it does?”

 

“How do you know what it does?!” Mark clutched at Anti’s fist that was spun up in his shirt, trying to pull himself free.

 

“I know more than you think I know, _Marquinhos_.” He spat the ancient name at the Korean. “Tell me why you have this here!”

 

“I will if you let me go!” The blade was pressing harder against his windpipe, nearly slicing into the skin.

 

Anti released his grip on Mark’s shirt, keeping the knife at the ready to stab into the older vampire if necessary.

 

“Why. Is. It. _Here_.” Each of Anti’s words were filled with venom.

 

“Because I was gonna kill myself!”

 

Expecting the god to back down from the fight, Mark looked downward at the floor, pressing his hand against his throat. Instead, he was met with confusion.

 

“Kill yourself…” the god contemplated. “Why?”

 

“When Jack went into the coma, I had a backup plan in case he never woke up again,” Mark explained, still not meeting Anti’s eyes. “And, I mean…it’s a fucking ancient artifact, y’know? You don’t just leave those behind in the remains of a house fire.” Mark shot a quick, accusatory glance at Anti.

 

Nodding slowly, Anti pursed his lips.

 

“As I understand it, there aren’t that many of these left,” the Irishman said.

 

“Nope,” Mark answered.

 

“So, you weren’t going to kill me with this?”

 

“Hadn’t planned on it.”

 

“Oh.” A small glimpse of shame crossed Anti’s face. “Sorry, then.”

 

Mark shrugged. “It’s cool.” 

 

The two stared awkwardly at each other until Anti broke the silence.

 

“I think we should go to the Harvest this year.”

 

“I think we shouldn’t,” Mark scoffed.

 

“It’s very important that we go.”

 

“Then why the hell did you drag me all the way to the middle of no-goddamn-where? Why wouldn’t we just stay in L.A.?”

 

Anti’s mouth twisted to one side as he pondered the question. “We had fun, didn’t we?”

 

“Well—“ The vampire sire stopped his train of thought, really thinking about it. He _did_ have fun. A previous Mark would have been disgusted at the abomination he had become, but the current Mark very much liked who he was, what he was doing, and who he was running with now. He sighed deeply, opting to give Anti the satisfaction he was looking for.

 

“Yes. We had fun.”

 

His protégé beamed.

 

“And now we’re going to have even _more_ fun,” he said, “at the Harvest.”

 

“So…we gotta drive all the way back to L.A. then?”

 

“ _You_ gotta drive all the way back to L.A.,” Anti corrected. “I’m beat. Expended a lotta energy earlier, you know what I’m sayin’?” He chuckled to himself.

 

Mark groaned, running his fingers through his hair. “Okay, well I’ve got a dead girl out in the pool and you’ve got a dead girl on the bed, so I say we make like a tree and get the fuck outta this place.”

 

“Make like a…tree…” Anti’s eyes, now their normal blue again, drifted off to some other dimension while he pondered what Mark was trying to say.

 

“It’s a joke,” the Korean admitted after some time.

 

Mark took the dagger back from Anti, who unwillingly gave it up, but compromised when Mark reminded him that he wasn’t the one that had to drive for the next several hours. After dumping the bodies of the two girls on the side of the highway some twenty miles away from the hotel, figuring the vultures would eat them soon, the undead pair headed toward the rising sun.

 

“I’m glad we’re friends, Mark,” Anti whispered as he curled up in the passenger’s seat. “I know you wanted it to be Jack, but I’m glad it’s me.” He grinned to himself. “I made you better.”

 

Mark gripped the steering wheel as he squinted into the morning sun, an eerie sensation washing over him that he couldn’t quite describe. Considering the thought quietly for a couple of minutes, he smiled warmly, relaxing his shoulders for the first time since he’d found Anti with the blade.

 

“Yeah,” he replied. “Better.”    


	31. Prophet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'Cause it feels like I've been,  
> I've been here before  
> You are not my savior,  
> But I still don't go.  
> Feels like something  
> That I've done before  
> I could fake it,  
> But I still want more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who is ready for some Trauma™ and Dark Shit™ (hehe) lol
> 
> Thank you guys so much for your comments and support and kudos, it truly really means the whole entire world to me :) I'm having way too much fun with this~!

Wilford wrapped his hands tighter around his father’s throat, closing off his airway, his face flushing from pink to an alarming red.

 

“Get…off…me…!” the older man wheezed, trying desperately to break his son’s grip on his windpipe.

 

In the background, Wilford’s mother was screaming curses in both German and Korean at the two men absorbed in their scuffle on the ground, Wilford towering over his feeble father as he squeezed impossibly harder.

 

There was an eerie silence from the young boy. He was only fifteen; he shouldn’t have to fight for his mother’s honor against her own husband. He was fifteen, just home from school, walking in to find his father raping his mother and she was face-down on the bed, crying into a pillow. The stench of liquor was strong in the room—of course the man was drunk. He always was.

 

This is why it was easy to overpower him. He was wasted, and Wilford was going to make damn good use of it.

 

He watched the life drain from his father’s eyes, a sickening smile creeping across his lips, while his mother still screeched behind him, pounding the floor with her fists. The pulse that once throbbed heavy and strong on his neck had faded to almost nothing.

 

_It’s over, Mother,_ Wilford thought to himself. _He won’t hurt us again. He won’t ever hurt us again._

 

He was fifteen and he had taken a life. His own father’s life.

 

“… _Mark!_ ”

 

Anti’s voice broke through the uninvited memory and Mark sucked in a quick breath, blinking wildly as he surveyed his surroundings. Nightfall was approaching, and consequently, so was the Harvest. Both vampires were dressed for the occasion, although Mark was already feeling nauseous at the thought of bringing Anti.

 

“The hell were you doing?” the Irishman asked when he didn’t get an immediate reply.

 

“I was…” Mark shook his head, trying to clear the memory from the forefront of his brain. There were more important things to focus on. “Just thinking.”

 

The two sat alone at a rooftop bar, all the other patrons forced inside due to the chill in the air. Paper lanterns were strung about and a soft fire from a fire pit crackled serenely. Mark checked his phone for the time—they would need to head down the block soon for the party.

 

“Please, don’t fuck this up, Anti,” the sire begged, his head reeling with the worst of possibilities. “You have to just pretend you’re Jack. Er…Janek, I guess.”

 

“Abso-fruitly,” the younger man quipped.

 

“Why did you insist on us coming to this, anyway?” Mark questioned.

 

“Oh, you know me,” Anti said, shrugging. “I just love to party.” He screwed the cap off of his stainless steel flask and took a quick swig of whisky.

 

“Sounds like you know something that I don’t know.”

 

The Irish vampire glanced at Mark out of the corner of his eye. “You’re always so suspicious. I thought we had this mutual trust thing goin’ on?”

 

“Last I heard, the trust is a one way street,” Mark spat. “You feel the need to trust me, but I’m left in the dark about the shit you’re up to. How the fuck is that even fair?”

 

“Fair, fair, _fair!_ ” Anti waved his hands dramatically. “Always fuckin’ whining about ‘fair.’ Gods, if you didn’t give me this gift of immortality, I swear I’d rip your spine out.”

 

“ _Okay_ , but there’s a bunch of shit you’re not telling me!” His anger was growing by the second. Mark took a breath in an attempt to calm down. “Why did you want to come back to L.A. for this? Please, Anti, just tell me.”

 

An annoying alarm sounded off from Anti’s (Jack’s) phone, and the new vampire pulled it out, checking the screen. He gasped, an excited grin lighting up his face.

 

“It’s time!” he cried, hopping to his feet. He reached his hand down for Mark. “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

 

Hesitantly, the Korean allowed the creature to pull him from his comfy chair, and the two ran toward the edge of the building, peering out over the city.

 

“I think it’d be faster if we ran along the rooftops,” Anti suggested. Mark immediately shook his head.

 

“What if someone sees us? I feel like that’s a little advanced for a couple of normal guys doing parkour.”

 

“Race ya there, pretty boy!” Without waiting for a response, Anti took off, leaping and clawing his way up the side of the building just ahead of him. The hairs on the back of Mark’s neck bristled and his shoulders shot up to his ears, fists clenching in rage. Instead of waiting around for anything ordinary to happen, Mark chased after Anti.

 

They made it to the hotel, the same one that the vampires had hosted their Harvest for decades, landing gingerly on the roof. There was a roof access door that was slightly ajar, so Anti headed that way, ready to make the descent to the ballroom on the first floor. Mark followed reluctantly, double-checking over his shoulders to make sure no one had seen them.

 

They reached the ballroom as a slew of other guests were arriving. Mark shot one final warning glance at his protégé, who simply smiled in return, before spotting his parents on the opposite side of the room. He instantly felt nervous, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he faced his mom and dad for the first time in a long time. Swallowing his pride, he advanced toward them, hoping they wouldn’t notice if he seemed “off.”

 

Lucien and Amelia turned simultaneously, their eyes finding Mark straight away. Mark’s pace faltered slightly, the nerves kicking in even harder now. He gulped audibly, holding his head up with determination.

 

“Marquinhos,” greeted Lucien in his suave Latin accent. He seemed… _pleased_ to see his son. Mark melted slightly, his soft core showing through the hard exterior.

 

“Father,” Mark said, nodding toward him. “And Mother.”

 

Amelia swooped over to scoop him up in an enormous bear hug, lifting him slightly off the ground. She swung him around like a small girl with a giant stuffed animal.

 

“My son!” she cried, tears glistening in her eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

 

“Okay, Ma, sit me down, please.”

 

Lucien looked behind the two to see “Janek” waiting patiently to speak with his grandparents.

 

“We see that Janek has now joined our ranks,” Amelia noted. At the mention of the name, Anti bowed in reverence to the older vampire couple.

 

“Welcome to the Harvest,” Lucien said warmly, walking over to grip the young vampire’s hand in a firm handshake. “You don’t remember, I’m sure, but this isn’t your first rodeo here.”

 

Playing the part, Anti blinked curiously. “I was here before? As a human?”

 

“Yes, dear,” Amelia said. “Silly Mark brought you here unturned several times. It was a foolish game, but all turned out well in the end.”

 

“Indeed…” Lucien pondered quietly to himself, glancing off in the distance. “Marquinhos, I’ve been meaning to catch up with you. May we speak in private?”

 

Mark stoically nodded. “Sure thing.” He offered another look at Anti, who waved tenderly at the two stepping away to talk amongst themselves.

 

In a room so dark that even the two vampires could hardly see, Mark and Lucien convened.

 

“All I’m saying is,” Lucien explained, “we felt _something_ the night that Jack was turned. We don’t know what it was, but…I suspect something bad is coming.”

 

“I didn’t feel anything at all,” Mark answered innocently. “Gianna told me about the weird energy, but I literally didn’t feel anything.”

 

“Yes, she finally told me that she had spoken to you,” the older vampire mused. “She was afraid I’d be mad at her. In truth, I’d been kicking my own ass since I forced you to leave the Harvest. A father should never turn his back on his own son.” Lucien placed a comforting hand on his protégé’s shoulder. “I am very sorry, Mark.”

 

Mark swallowed, baleful eyes looking down at the floor.

 

“Father, I haven’t…been totally honest.”

 

“What do you mean, son?” Worry crept across the Latino’s face.

 

“Jack isn’t…” He exhaled, trying to come up with the impossible words. “That’s not…Jack.” Lucien’s eyebrows knitted together, puzzled. “That’s not Janek.”

 

“Well then, who—“

 

The door slamming open behind them interrupted the tense moment, and both vampires were poised to attack whoever had come in.

 

“Mark!” cried the shadowy outline of Gianna. “You actually came!”

 

“Gianna, sweetness,” Lucien scolded, “we were having a private discussion.”

 

Ignoring her father, the young girl raced at lightning-speed to Mark, nearly knocking him over with her embrace.

 

“Yeah,” Mark squeaked as she forced the breath out of him. “And I brought Janek, too.”

 

“I saw him out there dancing with Mom!” she chirped. “It was so cute!”

 

Mark took a moment to collect what she had just said. “Yup, that sounds about right—wait, _what_?”

 

Gianna stood stock still, eyes wide. “Er…they’re dancing?”

 

Lucien and Mark glanced at each other, then raced out of the room to find Anti and Amelia entwined in a slow dance. Anti’s right hand rested on the small of his grandmother’s back while she held loosely to the back of his neck, their other hands pressed together as they spun around.

 

“I hope one day, I get to have a partner as beautiful as you, grandmother,” Anti purred. His words melted her.

 

“Please,” she chuckled, “call me Amelia. And, if I read correctly…you will have a partner.” The Irish vampire blinked, tilting his head to one side to squint at her. “And a protégé of your own.”

 

“Really…?” He tried to hide his disappointment behind surprise, but he could have sworn that didn’t sound exactly right. “How interesting.”

 

“Janek, Mother,” Mark greeted hurriedly, finding a moment at the end of the current song to squeeze himself awkwardly into the conversation. “What the hell is this?” A strange smile was stuck on his face as he glowered accusingly at the fledgling.

 

“Marquinhos,” Amelia gasped, “don’t be rude. He’s your protégé.”

 

“You think I’d really hurt my grandmother, Daddy?” Anti joked, the corner of his lip pulled into a smirk.

 

“Did you just call me _Daddy_?” If his blood actually flowed, Mark would swear his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.

 

“ _Anyway_ ,” Lucien threw in. “It’s nearly time to call the festival to order and serve the meal.” He looked over to Anti. “Janek, you’ll really enjoy this, I think.”

 

Anti hummed, releasing Amelia gently and bowing to her, grabbing her hand lithely to kiss it as if she were royalty.

 

“A pleasure, Amelia,” he cooed. She couldn’t help but duck her head, giggling like a schoolgirl.

 

As the family made their way toward the stairwell, Ingram appeared out of nowhere behind Anti. The god wheeled on the Middle Eastern vampire, leering at him.

 

“So, _Janek_ ,” Ingram began, “how are you enjoying your Harvest this time? Now that you’re, of course, one of us.” He grinned proudly, pleased with his attempt to push Anti’s buttons.

 

“You must be Ingram,” Anti said, bowing slightly. “Grandfather told me that I did come here to Harvest as a human. What a stupid mistake of Marquinhos to make. It seems you and I have a bit of history as well.”

 

Ingram was taken aback—he expected this confrontation to go much less smoothly. “Er, yes, I suppose you could say that.”

 

Anti then growled, the sound low in his throat and rumbling in his chest. Ingram jumped back out of reflex, shock making his eyes grow wide.

 

“I _suggest_ ,” Anti hissed, “that you leave me out of your games tonight, vampire.”

 

Ingram fought the urge to laugh incredulously, but he couldn’t remember actually feeling _nervous_ for any reason in the last century. Swallowing his pride, he stepped back away from Anti, frowning.

 

“I’m…I’m sorry?” he offered sincerely to the fledgling. “I guess I don’t exactly know what you mean.” A nervous chuckle escaped him, and he was infuriated that he was suddenly not the alpha in this situation.

 

A sick grin formed on Anti’s lips. “Watch yourself.” He spun quickly and headed to join his new family on the stairwell. Taking a moment to recompose himself, Ingram followed warily, still unsure of this new “protégé.”  

 

Lucien began to address the crowd once the Morelock family had gathered together on the stairs, this time with Anti in the picture. The Latino vampire made a special point to note that Janek had been turned, “finally, after all this time,” which was met with mostly cheerful responses. Anti grinned coldly, a murderous gleam in his eye. Mark took note of it, of course. He also took note of the fact that Ingram was apparently freaking out about something—a nervous energy overwhelmed the Saudi Arabian and Mark could sense it from where he stood.

 

The oldest Feral in the family droned on for a few moments longer, turning to Anti with a soft smile on his face. The vampire-god grinned back, his eyes full of excitement.

 

“Janek,” Lucien said warmly, “would you like to say anything as the newest Morelock vampire?”

 

Anti’s red eyes scanned the crowd, his smile growing ever wider, as he giggled under his breath. He held his hands up, palms facing the crowd, as his fingers spread outward.

 

“Boom.”

 

The overhead lights, massive chandeliers, and various floor lamps all shattered in a nauseating energy wave, thrusting the entire building into darkness. Screams erupted from the crowd, with vampires running left and right as fast as they could to escape the glass raining down from above. Ingram grabbed Gianna, and Amelia and Lucien stepped in front of their children, knees bent and claws out in protection. Anti turned, making his way calmly up the stairs, stopping only to pull a dumbfounded Mark out of the way of a falling piece of chandelier. The vampire sire was in complete shock, staring at Anti as he continued up the stairs as if he were some cryptic, unknown being.

 

At the top of the stairwell stood the five Ancients in the same formation that Mark had seen them when he went to Riiser-Larsen. The other Morelocks noticed them at the same time as Mark did, all of them humbly dropping to their knees and bowing their heads. Mark remained standing as the rest of the vampires in the room followed suit, paying respect toward their makers. Finally, upon seeing that even Anti was bowing in reverence, Mark feigned loyalty by kneeling as well, his eyes glued to the shimmering pieces of glass on the stairwell.

 

Malachi stepped forward, his shoes crunching the shards of glass that had fallen from above, to stand directly in front of Anti on his knees. Somehow, he seemed even scrawnier than when he was seated at the obsidian table, Mark noted.

 

“Rise,” Malachi told the Irish vampire. Anti obeyed and got to his feet quickly, a mix of determination and amazement on his face. “Everyone, please.”

 

The Morelocks were next to stand up, Mark hesitating again, followed by the other vampires in the ballroom.

 

“Malachi,” Lucien started, ducking his head slightly, “forgive us. We were not expecting your visit this evening.”

 

“Enough,” Caelestis barked, holding a hand up to stop the Latino from continuing. Lucien blinked, pursing his lips, finding it difficult to remain silent.

 

“We are here because this evening is a very special occasion,” Malachi announced to the awestruck crowd. He glanced down at Anti, the look in the god’s eyes mirroring a child’s wonder on Christmas morning. “We have waited for centuries, for thousands of years, on the arrival of the Prophet…and he is finally among us.” A ghostly-white hand with black claws reached down to Anti, who accepted it graciously. Malachi tugged gently to pull Anti to the top of the stairwell, standing amongst the ranks of vampire royalty.

 

“Your Prophet,” the Ancient cheered, holding Anti’s hand high, “Shesmu, lord of blood.”

 

Mark’s mouth dropped open, his throat constricting in fear. Amelia gasped, grabbing Lucien’s hand, and Mark’s siblings turned their menacing gaze back to him. His parents, unsure of where to place any blame, looked to Mark for answers. The Korean was dumbfounded, stunned into silence.

 

Anti grinned evilly at his sire. He didn’t care for the pathetic gaze that came from Mark. It just didn’t seem right.

 

“Actually, Malachi,” the Irishman spoke up, “I go by Anti now.”

 

Puzzled, Malachi’s brows knit together. “Anti? What does this mean?”

 

Anti shrugged. “It’s a long story. But I’d rather be called Anti, just so you know.”

 

“Er…very well,” Malachi answered, choosing not to engage him any further.

 

“Ammon,” Anti chirped, noticing the dark-skinned Ancient standing in the shadows. “It’s very nice to see you again.” He had switched to using a different language to speak with the Egyptian vampire—one that sounded long dead and forgotten.

 

Ammon nodded once toward the god, grinning at the use of the foreign tongue. “I much prefer speaking face-to-face rather than through a human vessel.”

 

Anti hummed happily, turning back to Mark. “I think we have something to take care of,” Anti reminded Malachi. Malachi’s icy eyes were upon Mark, then, still unable to speak.

 

“I believe you’re right.”

 

Every muscle in Mark’s body was tense, but whether he was poised to fight or to run, he wasn’t sure.

 

“Marquinhos,” Lucien whispered. “What is this?”

 

“I—“ Mark’s response was cut short.

 

“You’ve known that Janek was not Janek?” Amelia questioned. “How long?”

 

Mark gulped. “A while.”

 

“ _How. Long._ ” The English vampire woman was poisoned with rage and despair.

 

“Anti and Jack were…” Mark found it very hard to explain, a lump growing in his throat. “They were sharing a body, essentially. Anti was awakened when Jack came to his first Harvest. By drinking the blood.”

 

“So you have known for years, then,” Ingram said, putting the pieces together.

 

“Okay,” Anti chimed in, “in all fairness, I wasn’t _supposed_ to be awoken until after Jack was turned. But I’ve always been there.”

 

“I will briefly explain,” Lucrezia said, “if that is your command, Malachi.”

 

Without a word, the leader of the Ancients stepped back, letting Lucrezia have the floor.

 

“The existence of our kind would not have been possible if it weren’t for the Sorceress, as you all know,” she explained. “We have always had roots in magic, and of course, every prophecy needs its prophet.” The golden-haired Ancient glanced over to Anti before continuing. “The young Sorceress was in despair, since the kingdom had taken away her only daughter as punishment for delving into the dark arts. We knew that we could help her get her back, _if_ she was willing to help us awaken the god Shesmu.

 

“The Sorceress gave us some of her blood, mixed with various herbs and potions and the like, which we then used to create a serum by adding a few drops of our own blood. We performed the Ritual of Obsidian at the altar of Shesmu along the bank of the Nile River, who was at the time still worshipped as a modern god. As centuries went on, generation after generation, we updated the serum by taking blood from the descendants of the Sorceress, until finally we came upon the Irish sorceress Sinéad. She was going to be a mother, but she didn’t want her daughter to take on the curse of magic, choosing to protect her from the darkness of her kind and ours alike.

 

“We made a deal with her, but of course, it came with a price. The magic was still infused in the baby girl after her birth, but it was dormant, unable to be tapped into by mere mortal means. Sinéad, in her elder years, abandoned her family to work as a confidant for us as the payment for our allowing her family to live normal, human lives. In Anno Domini, nineteen ninety, the country of Ireland, Sinéad performed her final task for us as confidant by injecting the newborn baby Seán McLoughlin with the serum, effectively providing a vessel for Shesmu to eventually awaken. The ancient ritual was to be completed once Seán was turned into a vampire—I suppose his unwise decision to ingest blood as a human caused quite a chaotic mess.”

 

Lucrezia’s spiel turned Mark’s brain into mush, and he was trying desperately to make sense of it all.

 

“Marquinhos even knew that I wasn’t Janek once he turned me,” Anti said, grinning at the older vampire. “We’ve been running around wreaking havoc for weeks.”

 

Gianna’s eyes pierced through Mark like daggers, and his parents looked so disappointed that he thought his heart might break.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Mark offered after a moment. He felt choked up. “This is all my fault.”

 

_Your fault…Your fault…Your fault…_

 

His own father refused to look at him, his jaw working in frustration.

 

“You should have told us, Mark,” Amelia said sadly. “We could have helped you.”

 

Incredulous laughter came from the vampire-god.

 

“What would you have done, dear Amelia?” Anti asked her. “Try to kill your son’s protégé?”

 

The dark-skinned woman was silent as tears fell from her eyes.

 

“Nothing to be done about it now,” Malachi sighed, a careless lilt to his voice. He turned to the Prophet. “Anti, do what you will.”

 

A cheerful, fanged smile lit up the god’s face as he raised his palms slowly, claws curved toward the sky. The vampires on the floor of the hotel were sucked upward at the same pace as Anti’s hands raised, cries of confusion and fear tainting their voices. As Anti closed his hands into fists, he forced them down stoically, causing the vampires that were just levitating to be crushed violently into the floor, cracking the tile and sending waves of panic through the crowd.

 

“Oh, my god…” Lucien breathed.  

 

“A mere demonstration of my power,” the Irishman announced, laughing. “Nothing personal.”

 

The vampires weren’t dead, of course, but many were bleeding and had several broken bones. Some were knocked unconscious. Shrieks of pain erupted from a few, sending chills down Mark’s spine.

 

“Anti, please, don’t—“ Mark began, turning to see that the vampire-god was right behind him. He stumbled backward into the banister, catching himself before he toppled over it.

 

“Oh, Marquinhos,” the Irishman purred, running a clawed finger up and down Mark’s sternum over his shirt. “We’ve had a lot of fun, you and I. But you knew that you were going to be in trouble if you didn’t listen to the Ancients’ command.”

 

His breathing was ragged and heavy as he stared into Anti’s crimson gaze.

 

“Then kill me, already,” Mark decided. “I don’t wanna live in a world ruled by you. My family can look after themselves. They’ve done a good job without me, anyway.”

 

Ingram scowled and Gianna crossed her arms, trying to find a balance between anger and pity for their poor brother. Lucien and Amelia were numb.

 

“I don’t want to kill you, Mark,” Anti promised, his claw splitting open Mark’s dress shirt. “I only want to make you better.”

 

“What does that—“

 

Mark was cut off by the sharp set of vampire claws forcing their way into his chest as Anti worked his way under his rib cage. The Korean gasped, trying to scream in agony and fear at the feeling of Anti’s hand rummaging around his insides, but no sound came out. Amelia wailed, hiding her eyes in her hands, and Lucien attempted to rush Anti but was met with Ygmor’s sudden appearance to stop him.

 

“Leave him alone,” the Ancient said gruffly in his Slavic accent. Ygmor delivered a sharp blow to Lucien’s jaw, sending him tumbling down the stairwell to land amongst the wounded vampires at the bottom.

 

“Hmm, let me see…” Anti said to himself, still wriggling his fingers inside Mark’s chest. Out of nowhere, the Irishman’s eyes lit up, sparked with excitement. “ _There_.”

 

The veins in Anti’s arm turned black as a dark energy surged through Mark. He felt pieces of himself, fond thoughts and remorse and loyalty—the parts that made him human—being sucked away the longer that Anti’s arm remained buried in his chest. Anti’s eyes were glazed black as he concentrated on absorbing whatever was inside Mark that he wanted. Mark began to panic, trying to pull away from Anti unsuccessfully.

 

Finally, the god tore his arm from Mark’s chest, a slick coating of black plasma dripping from his clawed hand. The plasma oozed up Anti’s forearm and into the palm of his hand, forming a small, cosmic sphere that swirled darkly in his grip. Anti’s black eyes turned back to crimson as he crushed the sphere, sending it flying in a flurry of dust and shadows.

 

Mark stood still, his brain attempting to process what had just happened. He felt…empty. Simply a passenger in a foreign body.

 

“What did you do?!” Amelia shrieked, fearing she already knew the answer.

 

The wound in Mark’s chest closed up quickly, healing faster than he had ever thought possible. He looked down, chuckling to himself as he traced his fingers along the already-healing scar that was just given to him, the chuckle eventually turning into an insane cackle. He threw his head back and howled in laughter, and a proud smile formed on Anti’s lips.

 

“There he is,” Anti mumbled under his breath, choosing to ignore Amelia.

 

“What is happening?” Gianna said after Anti didn’t answer. The god rolled his eyes, turning to the young vampire.

 

“I took what was left of his wretched soul, little twat,” he spat. “He should have listened to the Ancients.”

 

“I should have listened to the Ancients,” Mark repeated, his lips still curved in a sinister smile.

 

“Mark,” Anti started, snapping his fingers, “be a darling and go take care of your father.”

 

“With pleasure,” Mark growled, claws extended and fangs elongating.

 

“Ah-ah-ah!” the god chided, wagging his finger. “Use this.” He tossed the obsidian dagger at Mark, who caught it daintily in his left hand without turning.

 

“What do you mean, ‘take care’ of him?” Ingram demanded, stepping in front of Gianna.

 

“He’s going to kill him,” Malachi said, breaking the silence of the Ancients who were simply watching the events spiral downhill from their perch above. “He should have listened to us.”

 

“Mark, no, _please_!” Amelia cried, her voice breaking through her tears.

 

The Korean wasn’t paying attention to her as he walked with newfound purpose down the stairs, his head held high, clutching the dagger tightly. He reached the bottom, kneeling beside his father to lift his head from the ground. Ygmor had apparently broken his neck due to the force, and Lucien struggled to stifle his cries of pain with Mark moving him.

 

“S—son, please…” begged the elder Feral. “Please, I’m…”

 

Mark brought the dagger down and sliced through Lucien’s heart without a second thought. Amelia cried in agony as she fell to her knees, clutching the stairs for support while sobs wracked her entire body. The ruby jewel in the pommel of the dagger began to glow as the life was sucked from his father’s body. Lucien gave one last look of heartbreak toward his protégé, who only glared at him from above, holding the dagger in place in his chest.

 

“I love you, Marquinhos,” Lucien whispered, trying to raise a hand to stroke Mark’s jaw, but dropping it out of weakness. “And I forgive you.”

 

Lucien’s eyes and flesh faded to grey, a cold and lifeless color, and Mark knew he was dead. Mark pulled the dagger out, bringing it to his face before licking some of his father’s blood from the blade. Amelia wept hysterically on the stairwell. Gianna and Ingram, upon seeing their mother in such distress, turned their glares on Mark, who stood up slowly, still holding the dagger in his grip.

 

“Very good, Mark,” Anti said proudly. Mark smiled, cracking his neck on each side to readjust the bones.

 

Gianna screeched, an animalistic banshee-like noise, and flung herself blindly toward Anti, claws at the ready to rip his eyes from his sockets. Ygmor was still close enough to counter-attack, kicking the young vampire girl over the side of the banister, rendering her useless. Ingram’s blood boiled and he struck at Ygmor, leaving a long scratch down the side of his face. The bearded Ancient roared, launching himself at the Saudi Arabian.

 

“ _Enough of this_!” Malachi barked, bringing the altercations to an immediate halt. “Anti, you have work to do. Go.”

 

The vampire-god bowed and turned to Mark, who stood waiting for him at the bottom of the stairwell.

 

“Let’s go, Marquinhos,” Anti called. With another sly grin, Mark glanced at his family, following Anti toward the door.

 

“Mark…” Amelia wept, too weak to do anything more. Her children surrounded her to help lift her up.

 

“Take the body with you when you leave,” Malachi said in a disgusted tone. “And as for the rest of you…” His eyes glanced over the crowd. “The Harvest is over. There will be no more. We sincerely wish each of you nothing but the best. Farewell.” The five vampires bowed regally, hands clasped together. In the same burst of energy in which the Ancients had arrived, they were gone.

 

Groans and sputters were heard about the room as the vampires got to their feet to tend to the wounded, many offering support for Amelia and several rushing to retrieve Lucien’s body from the ground.

 

Mark and Anti watched curiously from across the room. Mark’s mother’s gaze was piercing, solemn, and would have destroyed him at one time in his life. Gianna and Ingram were too busy assisting Amelia to notice that the pair hadn’t left yet. The only response Mark offered his mother was a smile, but it was a sickening one that chilled her to the bone, evil intent hiding behind his red glare.

 

“Are you hungry?” Anti asked him once the Morelock family had turned away.

 

“I could eat.”

 

A soft chuckle came from Anti’s throat as he turned on his heel to walk out the door, Mark close behind.

 

“That’s my boy.”


	32. Flicker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you see anyone other than me?  
> Baby, please  
> I'll take a hit of whatever you got  
> Maybe two, maybe three  
> Oh, you're phenomenal, feel like a domino, fall to my knees  
> I am a malady, you are my galaxy, my sweet relief."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo lol sorry that took forever. I had a lot of stuff going on personally, trips to the hospital, my boyfriend had surgery, etc. etc. Anyways I'm back!! Hope you enjoy :)

**2017**

 

**Cairo**

 

In a dark corner of a cocktail bar known as The Lemon Tree, Mark and Anti hid from the rest of the patrons at an enormous booth, a small harem of scantily-clad women surrounding them. Late April could be especially humid in Egypt, and so the vampires chose a table indoors away from the setting sun and the mosquitos. Each immortal had a pair of girls lazed on their shoulders, likely high on ecstasy by this point, giggling and twirling their dark hair. Anti was absorbed in his phone, scrolling away through various bank accounts under various names, grimacing at the declining balances in each one. Mark sipped idly on some bourbon, half-listening to one of the women babble on about how horny she was.

 

“Gonna have to pick up the slack, here,” Anti grumbled, glancing over at Mark.

 

The Korean pretended not to hear him.

 

“ _Mark_ ,” came a growl from across the way, Anti’s fingers tapping impatiently on the wooden table.

 

“Oh, you were talking to me?” Mark retorted to the delight of his cohorts, giggling at his barren joke.

 

“I know this has been all fun and games for you,” the Irishman started, “but we do actually have some loose ends to tie up. Guys to pay off, and all that. We’re getting evicted next week.”

 

“Evicted!?” cried the women, concern on their painted faces.

 

“Ladies, ladies,” Mark hushed them in his silky voice. “You know we’re gonna take care of you. It’s alright.” They all settled down again after a brief moment of panic.

 

The vampire-god cleared his throat, wiggling out of the grasp of his vixens.

 

“Why don’t you girls go out there and mingle?” he suggested, a sly smile on his lips. “Find us someone pretty to eat.”

 

The four dark-skinned beauties agreed vehemently, hopping up from the table like excited puppies to race off toward the dance floor.

 

“Look,” Anti warned Mark, “we’re a team here. You’re not allowed to flake out on me.”  

 

Mark popped his neck by turning his chin harshly with the palm of his hand.

 

“I’m not flaking,” the Korean told him. “I have a plan.”

 

“A plan. You? Really.”

 

“ _Really_.”

 

Anti sat back, studying his sire to find any hint of a lie.

 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

 

“It requires a little faith, my dear protégé.” Mark grinned at Anti, watching him flinch at the title. He knew it still bothered him that he wasn’t truly the alpha vampire.

 

“Does it involve copious amounts of terrible, awful, no-good, very-bad things?” The Irish immortal asked. “’Cause those are my favorite things.”

 

“Yes,” Mark said, his eyes drifting off to find where their harem had gone. “It does.”

 

From their corner of the club, they watched as Mark’s followers were cavorting with a younger girl and her friend, both beautiful, while Anti’s pair had found themselves a sharply-dressed college boy, grinding on him at the same time.

 

“Ooh, double-whammy for you,” Anti chuckled, nudging Mark under the table. He couldn’t hide his smile.

 

“And…another college boy for you.”

 

The vampire-god shrugged. “Beauty is beauty. Honestly, society’s biggest mistake was making same-gender intimacy so taboo.” He picked up his fancy cocktail, sipping on it slowly while eyeing the women over the glass. Mark had to agree with the sentiment, though his preferences were a bit more strict.

 

A blur of wild, red hair caught Mark’s eye as the music seemed to get louder. He blinked, feeling the rumble of the bass in his chest. He hadn’t seen anyone with naturally-red hair anywhere in this country unless they were a tourist, and even then, it was rare. One of Mark’s women spun the redhead around, her sickeningly-pale flesh blinding in the flashing lights of the club.

 

The red-haired woman continued to spin on her own, and Mark squinted, trying to get a better look at her. She began to slow down, almost toppling over, her wavy locks hiding her face as she seemed to sputter with laughter. The club music dropped several octaves, like a child’s toy with a low battery, sounding almost demonic to Mark’s ears. Blurs crossed his vision as the red-haired girl’s face was revealed.

 

Amber.

 

Mark swallowed, his pupils dilating as he tried to focus in on the woman staring straight at him from the opposite side of the room.

 

Amber’s face was hollow, her eyes glazed like the dead, and her throat was torn out. The pajamas she was wearing on the night she died were tattered and bloodied, her night shirt hanging off her skeletal shoulder.

 

 _It’s not real_ , he assured himself, rubbing his eyes free of the horrific image. _It’s not happening_.

 

Anti’s voice called to him from under a tidal wave, and the music picked back up to the right speed, the club resuming its normal operations.

 

“Are you doin’ okay, buddy?” Anti asked him, clearly exasperated by waiting for a response.

 

Mark shook his head, looking back to the dance floor. “Amber,” or _whatever_ that was, wasn’t there anymore.

 

“Erm…” the older vampire’s head felt swimmy, his stomach doing somersaults as he squeezed his temples. “Yeah, I think I just…” He stood shakily, catching himself before he could fall over onto the glistening tile. “…drank too much.”

 

Mark found himself with his head buried in a fancy porcelain sink in the restroom, icing the back of his neck under the faucet. After a few minutes, he lifted his head to stare into the mirror, splashing his pallid face with the frigid water while trying to catch his breath. He still didn’t feel well, and he had a mind to believe that Anti slipped him something in his drink. What else would make him hallucinate _her_? He’d been fine for months. Hadn’t even thought about that night.

 

With trembling fingers, he reached down his pocket to pull out the nightingale bracelet that he had taken from Amber’s corpse the night Anti killed her. The issue was that he distinctly remembered putting it away in an ornate silver box back at their apartment, hidden with the dagger that was still sticky with Lucien’s dried blood. In a brief moment of disarray, he dropped the bracelet to the ground, the bird charm making a _clink_ sound on the tile.

 

Outside the open high window he heard a songbird chirping a calming tune, almost as if the bird were answering the call of the tiny charm.

 

Breath ragged and heavy, Mark slowly turned his head to see a nightingale perched on a tree branch just outside the bathroom window, peering in with eyes black as the night. It was just staring at him, tilting its head to one side and then the other. An inexplicable, distorted sound of many whispering voices was growing in volume, reverberating inside Mark’s aching skull, and his eyes were locked with the nightingale’s, neither of them blinking as the voices grew louder and louder. The burning coals of the bird’s gaze seemed to hold the secrets and mysteries of the entire universe.

 

One voice, frail and feminine, finally found its way to him, and it sounded like someone was speaking right into his ear.

 

“… _Can you hear me?_ ”

 

Mark jumped, turning to face absolutely no one, breaking the staring contest he was having with the bird. After making sure he was indeed alone in the bathroom, he knelt down to pick up the jewelry and flung it out the open window at the bird, managing to hit the poor creature which sent it into a frenzy of feathers and shrill chirps. He stomped over and shut the window tight, pulling the mechanism to lock it.

 

He didn’t want to admit to himself that he could have sworn it was Amber’s voice in his ear.

 

Anti found himself outside the establishment, a fierce yellow streetlight bathing him and his young collegiate meal in a sickly color. Half of the harem stood watching, unnatural smiles affixed to their faces, as Anti calmly and gently drained the poor boy of his lifeblood. The Irish vampire had no patience for intimacy this evening, and he certainly wasn’t going to wait around on Mark to finish fucking around. He was hungry and he was afraid just this one wasn’t going to be enough.

 

Mark stumbled out of the bar, his messy dark hair a strange contrast to the rest of his classy ensemble, eyes boring through the younger immortal. Anti smirked, narrowing his eyes at his senior.

 

“Get carried away by yourself in there?” the god teased. Anti ran his thumb along his bottom lip, collecting warmth that he didn’t want to waste, and stuck his thumb in his mouth.

 

“Can we go somewhere else?” the Korean asked, an urgency in his voice that chilled Anti’s cold blood. Slightly taken aback, the younger vampire adjusted his stance to appear superior.

 

“Why? No one in there good enough for the great Marquinhos Morelock?” His tone was mocking, but Mark looked right through him.

 

“Can we go, please?”

 

Begging? Now, _that_ was something Anti hadn’t heard from his counterpart in a long while—and it only increased his trepidation about whatever had bothered Mark so badly.

 

“Erm…” Anti’s mouth twisted into a scowl and he sighed deeply, gazing back at the remains of his snack. “Yeah. Sure.”  He turned to the two women off to the side, waiting for instruction from either of the vampires. “Halima. Paki. Go find Umayma and Chione, please.”

 

The two women bowed their heads respectfully and hurried away to fetch their friends.

 

While they waited outside, Anti offered Mark the rest of the boy’s blood to help him gain any strength he may have lost by whatever had happened. At first Mark refused the offer, but the tantalizing smell was too much for him, and he buckled under the weight of his hunger. He drained the boy in seconds, and by the time he was finished, Halima and Paki had brought out the other half of their squad.

 

After three days’ time, Mark’s behavior was eerily back to normal—as if the incident at the bar didn’t happen at all. His spirits were immensely lifted, and Anti was relieved to see him this way.

 

“It’s your birthday tomorrow,” the vampire-god reminded Mark as they sat at a dimly-lit restaurant table, alone for the first time in days. The girls had taken off on some massive shopping trip, hoping to bring someone else home to join the harem. Mark sipped on a strong drink on the rocks and Anti stirred his mixed concoction with a pair of tiny black straws, staring into the swirl of liquor.

 

“Huh,” Mark exhaled, looking at his phone for the date. “So it is.”

 

“Two hundred and twenty three?” Anti knew the answer, but he wanted to be certain.

 

“Yup.”

 

“So,” the Irishman said, stretching his arms forward with hands clasped together to pop his fingers. “Your plan. About making sure we can make ends meet.”

 

The Korean was in another world, staring into the eyes of a woman from across the bar. She ducked her head behind her drink menu, chuckling to her friends. He smirked to himself, taking another long drink.

 

“Plan?” he asked Anti, trying to recall.

 

“Yes,” Anti prodded, “you said the other night you had a plan. To which I responded, ‘oh, really?’ And then _you_ said, and I quote… ‘ _really_.’”

 

“I feel like you’re misremembering that a little bit.” Mark’s grin had caught his future dinner off guard, and she froze, finding herself intoxicated by his gaze.

 

“Can you stop thinkin’ with your dick for, like, five seconds?” Anti knew he was, by nature, impatient, but residing in an Irishman as his host made him ten times more so.

 

Mark chuckled drunkenly, glancing back over to his partner.

 

“Sorry,” he said insincerely. “Continue.”

 

The newborn vampire threw his head back in a tremendous sigh of exasperation.

 

“ _You’re_ the one who supposedly had a fucking plan!”

 

“Oh, ah, _yes_ ,” the Korean answered vividly, his eyes brightening. “A plan. For more money. And not to get evicted. _Yes,_ I remember now. _That_ plan.”

 

Tapping his nails on the gleaming table, Anti waited for Mark to finish his drink before he spoke.

 

“Okay,” Mark began, “so, I don’t technically have a real plan for keeping us in the same apartment.”

 

Anti held his breath, trying desperately not to explode in rage. Mark sensed this, and held up a hand to ease the tension.

 

“ _However_ ,” the older vampire continued, “I found somewhere else we can live. And I think you’re gonna really like it.” He beamed at his protégé, his toothy smile unsettling in the dark restaurant.

 

“Alright,” the god said, willing to hear Mark out again. “Fine. But what about the money thing? We’re still going broke. Any fixes for _that_ issue, O Great Marquinhos of the Morelock clan?”

 

Mark shrugged, ignoring Anti’s jabs at him. “I’m tired of stealing money. Selling drugs is getting old. I don’t think the girls wanna be pimped out anymore.”

 

“So, we should…get a job?” Anti tilted his head to one side, trying to imagine himself as an accountant or a businessman.

 

“Better.” From his inner jacket pocket, Mark pulled a folded sheet of paper and unveiled it on the table, pushing it toward Anti so that he could read it. It appeared to be a list of names, ages, appearances, approximate locations of whereabouts…Anti picked up the paper and scanned over it briefly once or twice.

 

“Assassins?” His voice was a low whisper, so quiet that no human ear could pick it up. Mark’s stern nod told him he was right, and the paper was refolded and placed back on Mark’s person before Anti could bat an eye.

 

“Where’d you get the list?” the god asked after he finished off his drink. The waitress came by the table and Mark held up two fingers to signal her to bring more alcohol for each of them. After she had walked away, Mark turned back to Anti.

 

“A few of the guys we trade with,” the Korean said nonchalantly. “They talk about the issues they’re having with gangs, other dealers, whatever. I’ve been building the list from what they tell me. They’re willing to pay big for getting rid of them.” The older vampire sat back, his smirk returning. “Any means necessary.”

 

In disbelief, Anti shook his head. “Why didn’t we think of this before? I mean…we’re fuckin’ vampires, for gods’ sakes. It’s our natural instinct.”

 

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Mark said, picking up the new drink their waitress had placed before him. His eyes wandered again to the woman across the room, who still stared at him with her lips on the straw of her mojito. “Just had other things to think about.”

 

Their original harem returned to the shoddy, unkempt apartment in the middle of the night, dragging in a couple of women they had coerced into following them home for a party. Mark was, in more ways than one, involved in the girl from the restaurant in his bedroom, drinking from her neck while her back was slammed against the wall, his fist entangled in her hair as he fucked the life out of her. 

 

Anti was in solitude in his own bedroom, his eyes studying wildly over the only copy of _The Prophecy_ he had managed to finagle out of Mark. He focused on his own name—Janek Morelock—and the lines which branched away from that name into names that would never see the light of day.

 

Esmerelda Morelock, his “wife-to-be,” eventually…and his protégé, Dahlia. These were years into the future, and it was a future that was uncertain in his mind. Unlikely, even. On an almost weekly basis, he would pull the decrepit book from the darkened, dusty grave beneath his bed and look at these names, hoping to burn them out of existence with a gaze that would wither a thriving garden to ash.

 

He knew this was not the Ancients’ plan. This was _Janek_ ’s life, not his. Not Anti’s.

 

Not Shesmu’s.

 

It was all just a clever ruse to keep the illusion of obedience and “prophecy” in the limelight.

 

Paki stood meekly in the doorway to Anti’s room, waiting patiently for him to notice her.

 

“I see you,” the god said without looking up from the book. “Come in, please. What do you have for me?”

 

Paki and Umayma brought forth two very reluctant young women, probably in their early 20s, each one in an apparent mental struggle.

 

After sliding the ancient text back beneath his bed, Anti looked upon the new members of their household with eyes that gleamed with lust and hunger. One young woman was almost in tears as she tried to block out the screams and moans coming from Mark’s bedroom just across the hall.

 

“Let me have a look at you, sweetling,” Anti cooed to the tearful girl. She sneaked forward to kneel onto the bed, where he had made a place for her to sit. In an embarrassed manner, the girl looked downward, staring at the bloodstains on Anti’s sheets. He lifted her chin to him, trying to stare into her dark eyes. 

 

“What is your name?” he asked quietly.

 

“Thema,” answered the woman, her voice quivering.

 

Anti hummed cheerfully. “‘ _The queen_.’ I like it.” Tears started to fall down her cheeks.

 

“Please,” Thema begged. “ _Please_ , we…we thought we were coming to a party, we have no idea what you want. Just let us go.”

 

The vampire frowned, his forehead creasing.

 

“You don’t want to be here?”

 

“What? N—no! Why would we want to be here? We don’t even know any of you…” Thema was nearly in hysterics. Her friend had turned in the doorway to spy on Mark and the woman. Her noises were growing softer and weaker every minute.

 

“What is he doing to her?” the other girl asked one of the harem members.

 

“He is a vampire,” Paki told her matter-of-factly. “He and Master Anti are both vampires.”

 

“Master Anti…?” The girl faced the god on his bed. “That’s your name to these girls? _Master Anti_?”

 

“All this shit happening and my _name_ is what you have the problem with?” Anti jeered. “You people are weird.”

 

“Look,” the other woman began, “just let us go. We swear we won’t tell anyone about any of… _this_. Okay?”

 

Anti clicked his tongue and patted the spot next to Thema, inviting her friend to join. Sighing and rolling her eyes, the girl obeyed, and both ladies were knelt in front of him.

 

“And what’s _your_ name?” the Irishman asked once she had gotten comfortable.

 

“Masika.” She crossed her arms defiantly.

 

Anti held one hand against each of their faces, cupping the shape of their jawbones with the delicate touch of a feather. His gaze grew ominous, darker, as he stared forward at the both of them. They couldn’t help but get lost in his galaxy eyes.

 

“Thema and Masika,” he purred, “my darlings. What’s ours is yours. Please, make yourselves at home. You’re going to be staying with us for quite some time. Forget those in your past life. You belong to Master Anti and Master Marquinhos now, to do with you as we please.” Anti grinned sweetly, a cunning twinkle in his eye. “And you are very excited to be here.”

 

The girls hung onto his every word, each phrase melting in their ears like warm caramel. They wanted to do everything for Anti, to please him and Mark, to donate themselves to whatever cause so that he could keep pampering them with silver-tongued stories. _Anything_ for Master.

 

Thema was the first to grin, bright and wide, her whole body perking up.

 

“Master Anti,” she greeted, bowing her head. “What would you like us to do?”

 

Glancing back and forth between the two, Anti pondered his options, wondering which girl would be given to Mark and which he would keep for himself.

 

“Thema, go visit Master Marquinhos in his room, please,” he commanded her. Umayma grabbed the suddenly-eager woman by the arm and skipped off towards Mark’s room with her. Since he was finishing up with the unnamed woman from the restaurant, Thema would have to wait her turn.

 

Masika sat, vibrating with energy in her core as she gazed longingly at Anti. He grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head back harshly to expose her neck, and she sucked in a surprised hiss which ended in a frustrated laugh.

 

“What are you going to do to me, Master Anti?” she moaned, her eyes narrowing.

 

He had to chuckle to himself, in awe of his own power over even the most reluctant of minds. The baby-blue in his eyes turned dark red and he ran his tongue over the sharp point of his fangs. Inhaling the scent of her skin and her blood, he pulled her face daringly close to his, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke.

 

“I’m going to tear you apart.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The sun bathed Anti’s pale naked flesh much sooner than he would have liked. He rubbed his eyes, groaning loudly as he shifted in the sheets, a blurry figure in the distance becoming increasingly clearer. The god jolted awake to the sight of Mark standing in his doorway, arms crossed while leaning against the frame.

 

“You ever heard of knocking?” Anti complained, covering his nudity with the blanket. Masika was nowhere to be found.

 

“The door was wide open,” Mark reminded his counterpart. “I killed that girl from last night.”

 

“The new one?!” Anti cried, sitting up. “Thema?”

 

“No, idiot,” Mark groaned, “the other one. From the bar. She was on the hit list.”

 

“Oh.” The younger vampire resumed his slack posture at the news. “Thema was your birthday present. I was gonna be pissed if you killed her.”

 

“I’m taking the body to the group that wanted her dead,” the Korean explained further. “Then we’re gonna go check out the new place.”

 

“New place? There’s already a guaranteed place?”

 

“You really don’t put much faith in me at all, do you?” Mark smirked playfully, turning to stalk toward the kitchen for a celebratory drink of bourbon.

 

Anti sighed, smiling to himself as he plopped backward onto the bed to stare at the ceiling.

 

“Halima! Paki! Masika!” he called, hearing the rapid but dainty footsteps of the three women rushing toward his room. They halted at his door, doe-eyed and ready for whatever task he was going to give them.

 

“Your master requests playtime, lovely vixens,” he teased, rubbing the outline of his length above the covers.

 

The three women giggled excitedly, stripping as quickly as possible, making sure to close the door so that Mark could have his drink in peace.  

 

Seemingly alone for the moment, Mark tried to drown out the sounds of Anti’s morning “playtime” with his booze. He lit a candle that sat in the middle of the small, worn-down table, humming through a birthday song for himself.

 

“Happy birthday, dear…Mark…” he mumbled solemnly, swirling the ice cubes in his glass.

 

“…Happy birthday to you.”

 

Amber’s unmistakable voice was accompanied by her decaying, haggard appearance as she leaned down, fists resting on the table to stare at Mark with glazed, hollow eyes.

 

There was a long, drawn-out silence as he studied the figure of the woman he watched die half a year ago.

 

“You’re not real.” His expression remained unchanged, hoping to will the sight of her away with his words. His voice was strong, unwavering, and yet there was an undeniable fear in his heart that he couldn’t shy away from.

 

She grinned slyly, her eyes telling him otherwise as she blew out the flickering candle in front of her.

 

A nightingale chirped outside the open window.


	33. Caught in the Spider's Web

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You convince yourself that you want it, but you don't know  
> You keep on trying to wash the blood from your hands, but it won't go  
> We're gonna keep you on the run,  
> We got the handshake under our tongue."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it's been like a month or something dumb LMAO but I hit BAD writer's block and rewrote this chapter about 5 or 6 different times. I'm still not 100% pleased with it but it makes more sense to me now than it did before so ENJOY or DON'T or WHATEVER

There was something to be said about a relaxing evening in after the sun had set across the arid horizon.

 

Anti lounged on an inflatable in the crystal-clear waters of their swimming pool, just outside the mini-mansion that Mark had procured from its previous owners who, as he put it, “unexpectedly died.” Paki and Masika swam from one side of the pool to the other in some kind of race, making a drinking game out of it. Halima watched idly from her lounge chair, the dim lighting from the yard torches barely enough to see that she was trying not to fall asleep.

 

Mark lay on his stomach on the cold concrete next to the pool, his finger tracing whirlpools in the warm water while Thema ran her sharp nails up and down his back. The other two of his harem were out for the evening, and he couldn’t remember what exactly Anti had sent them to do.

 

Anti sipped on a strong drink, glancing over at Mark on the ground.

 

“You look like you could use one of these,” the vampire-god offered, stretching his glass slowly toward Mark from his position in the middle of the water.

 

A scoff came from Mark as he watched the surface tension of the water against his finger in action.

 

“What’s wrong, Master Markimoo?” Thema chuckled, leaning down to press her lips to his shoulder blade, nipping his ear lobe slightly on the way back up.

 

“Nothing,” he admitted. “Tired. Bored.”

 

The summer had brought almost nothing fresh in the wake of their new career path. Anti kept getting mad and going on random killing sprees, often taking out those who had issued contracts in the first place, making all the work null and void. Although Mark’s sense of remorse had been washed clean since his soul was taken, he still felt empty. Like there had to be something more to live for.

 

He supposed that he’d need to actually be _alive_ for that to matter.

 

“Well,” his vixen began, walking her fingers up his spine, “we can go inside and I can make you un-bored.”

 

The Korean grinned.

 

“That doesn’t sound like a _bad_ idea, I guess.”

 

He turned onto his back to look up at Thema, but she had disappeared. Blinking confusedly, he propped himself up on his elbow to ask Anti where she had gone.

 

But Anti wasn’t there, either. The pool float was gone, and the girls who were swimming earlier were nowhere to be seen. Halima wasn’t watching from her lounge chair anymore. Dead silence creeped into his head as he sat up, glancing all around for the people that were _just_ here a moment ago.

 

“No…” he gasped. “No, no, no…not again…”

 

The clean, fresh water in the pool had turned to blood, thick and dark, the scent of iron strong in the air. As Mark started to get to his feet, a ghostly-white hand reached out from the pool to grab his wrist, holding it tight. He struggled to break free, panic starting to set in. He didn’t need this again. He had been doing so well.

 

A head emerged from the crimson, thick black hair sticky with blood, glazed red eyes staring up at Mark like he was her prey.

 

Zhara. His vampire wife. A face he hadn’t seen since the 1950s, even in these awful hallucinations. A face he had tried to bury away with the old bones of his past.

 

“Hello, darling,” she greeted in her Eastern European accent. “It’s been a long while.”

 

He inhaled sharply, surprise and fear overwhelming him, as she jerked harshly on his wrist to pull him into the pool with her.

 

Mark was beneath the surface of the plasma that was once water, swimming to get to the surface, kicking and flailing wildly at his captor. Once his head was above the blood, he drew in a huge breath, seeing that he was surrounded by other bodies—some that he recognized more than others.

 

Karina, the poor girl that Anti had brought back to the hotel, the young dark-skinned Amber…Lucien. They all floated on their backs, eyes staring at the night sky. Mark waded through the bodies, glancing over his shoulder as the paranoia began to creep in, the blood congealing into a slimy obstacle course. He reached the other side of the pool and began to hoist himself up onto the concrete, but was grabbed by his legs from beneath. It felt like multiple people were pulling him down, tearing into his skin with sharp nails, and he gave in to their strength, crying out before his head was once again submerged.

 

Before he had gone all the way under, he saw the red-haired Amber, smiling while she watched him struggle.

 

Mark blinked, gasping as he sat straight up. He was back on the concrete, Thema’s eyes filled with confusion as she jumped back away from him. He tried to steady his breathing as he carefully got up from the ground, moving away from the pool.

 

“The hell is wrong with you?” Anti asked, annoyance in his tone.

 

“N—nothing,” the Korean lied, wrapping himself in his beach towel and forcing a chuckle. “I’m okay.”

 

His hair dripped chilly water onto his shoulders and he wrapped himself further into the towel burrito, hurrying to the glass sliding door to hide away inside for the night.

 

Thema frowned, swinging her legs over the side of the pool to soak her feet in the water.

 

“It wasn’t you, sweetness,” Anti promised her, finishing off his whisky. “But it _was_ something.” He watched Mark rush upstairs to his room, he supposed, a glint of evil and suspicion in his eyes. 

 

Mark was quite good at keeping secrets and distracting him from subjects, as Anti would soon be reminded. Days turned to weeks, and by summer’s end the god had almost forgotten about his intention to see through Mark’s façade.

 

_Almost_ forgotten.

 

Anti had invited Mark alone to go out into the wilderness surrounding their home in the middle of nowhere. Miles and miles of nothing but sand and cacti and a dead animal carcass every few minutes, vultures hovering and flies swarming. It was more of a “boys’ night out” thing to Anti, and it was the first night in months that he and Mark had a free evening to themselves.

 

The two were on their backs looking up at the stars, and the only light available was the flame from the campfire a few feet away. They had fashioned a small shelter out of a tarp and the Jeep they had stolen from someone whose name neither of them could remember. Stars dotted the expanse of the galaxy, not a cloud in the sky, and the temperature was perfect for an early fall evening.

 

“You would never lie to me, would you?” The Irish vampire asked out of nowhere, his question catching Mark off-guard. The older immortal remembered Anti asking him the same question back in the hotel room in Texas, and his stomach twisted in knots. Swallowing once, Mark closed his eyes and focused inward.

 

“No,” he responded in monotone. “Why are you asking me that?”

 

Anti shifted on the wool blanket they had laid on the ground. “No reason. I just…” He sighed, dancing around the subject. “You had been acting weird for a while. I wanted to make sure…you were still _you_.”

 

The Korean scoffed. “‘Course I’m still me. Where would I have gone?”

 

Rolling onto his side to face Mark, Anti’s eyes pierced through him. “You seemed really out of it a few weeks ago. Freaked out. I wasn’t sure what was up.” The Irishman’s nails dug into the fabric of the blanket beneath them, his pupils shrinking as he glared at his senior. “You haven’t somehow found a way to get a _soul_ back, have you?”

 

The Korean-German man whipped his head around to stare at Anti in feigned shock. “How did you know?! Oh, you’re so good at figuring me out, aren’t ya?”

 

Anti blinked, the sarcasm going over his head for a minute, but then realized Mark was kidding when he saw his devilish grin.

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Anti muttered, plopping back down onto the blanket.

 

“How would I even get a soul?” Mark questioned, looking back up at the constellations. “Go to the Soul Store? Buy one for, like, twenty dollars? Shove it up my ass?”

 

“I’ll _show_ you what to shove up your ass,” growled the younger vampire.

 

“That’s why you brought me out here, isn’t it? You just wanna get in my pants.”

 

Anti chuckled incredulously. “ _Please_ , bloodsucker. I can get anyone I want. Why do you think I’d have to convince _you_ , of all people, to follow me out here into the wilderness just to get some?”

 

Both were quiet while Mark tried to think of a clever retort, and Anti’s eyes slowly trailed over to his friend.

 

“I mean…” the god began quietly. “If you’re…really _desperate_ —“

 

“Christ, Anti,” Mark sighed. “No, thank you. I respect your orientation, but…I’m not interested.”

 

The Irishman laughed to himself. “Yeah, you know you couldn’t handle this.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Mark sat up, cracking his neck harshly. Anti took his phone from his pocket, clicking on the screen and hissing when the brightness scalded his eyes.

 

“Do you have a Tweeter account?” the Irishman asked, his voice almost like an innocent child’s.

 

“A Twitter?” Mark corrected. “No. Why, do you have one?”

 

“Yeah.” Anti rolled over onto his stomach, still clutching the phone with both hands, and scrolled mindlessly through his news feed. "There’s so much cool stuff on there.”

 

“Who would even follow you?”

 

Anti’s eyes narrowed. “All the girls in the harem do. I don’t think the newbies have one yet. Or they haven’t followed me.”

 

“Are you waiting for your lover-boy Kamuzu to follow you?” Mark was mostly joking, but the sole male member of the harem had been Anti’s treat of choice for the past few weeks, ever since his arrival with Gaia, the newest girl.

 

“No!” the younger vampire cried too quickly. “…Maybe.”

 

“Are you just using Jack’s old account?”

 

“Yeah. _He’s_ not usin’ it anytime soon. I unfollowed all his friends and shit.”

 

“You know you have to block them so they can’t see your stuff, right?”

 

Another moment of silence. “Duh…yeah.”

 

“…You’re doing it right now, aren’t you?”

 

“Will you stop bein’ such a cunt?” Anti snapped. He exhaled slowly. “Sorry. I’m just hungry, I guess.”

 

“It’s fine,” Mark answered. “I could go for some food, too.”

 

Anti was absorbed again in the brilliant light of his phone screen, chuckling to himself.

 

“Are we gonna go get somethin’ to eat, or…?” the Korean asked once Anti didn’t move immediately.

 

“Don’cha wanna know what the girls have been talkin’ about on the Twatter?” he teased, holding the screen toward Mark.

 

“ _Twitter_ ,” the older immortal corrected again, “and, no. Unless it’s something really funny.”

 

Anti cleared his throat, sitting straight up, putting on his best “high school theatre kid” voice as he read through a short list of Halima, Thema, and Chione’s tweets.

 

“‘Master Anti sure knows how to use his tongue,’ winky-face, tongue emoji,” the vampire-god boasted, loving the ego boost. “You hear that, Marquinhos?”

 

“Oh, yeah. Definitely top of my ‘List of Things I Never Need to Hear Ever Again.’”

 

“Here’s one about you!” Anti was squirming with delight, his voice high-pitched like a schoolgirl filling in her friends on the latest gossip. “‘Master Marquinhos has a _huge_ dick for an Asian guy.’”

 

“ _Okay,_ ” Mark laughed, “first of all: racist. Second of all…wait, why are they putting this shit on the Internet? Who are they even tweeting for?”

 

“I dunno.” Shrugging half-heartedly, Anti continued to keep his eyes on the phone.

 

“I really hope they aren’t tweeting about…y’know…the vampire thing.” Mark was suddenly very nervous.

 

“Relax,” the god told him, tossing his hand lazily. “It’s fine. I’m scrolling through here and I see _nothing_ about vampires.”

 

“Well, this has been an absolute delight, but I’m really getting super hungry.”

 

“I can’t believe we came all the way out here just to get _hungry_!” Anti groaned. “Why didn’t we bring someone to snack on?”

 

“If we go now, we might catch some stragglers at the bar, and then make it back here before the sun is up.”

 

An hour or so later, the undead duo had found a musty bar in a bad part of town, and had just finished off the last of its four remaining patrons plus the two bartenders. Both were covered in blood, the bodies strewn about the floor torn and shredded from claws and fangs. A couple were beheaded and severed limbs drooped from tables, still dripping blood onto the wooden floor. Anti was off in the corner, slouched on the jukebox with a fifth of Jack Daniels in hand, scrolling for a song to play. Mark was on the other side of the room, tossing his empty highball glass over his shoulder, the glass shattering into a million pieces.

 

“Fuck, I can’t believe we ate everybody at the bar,” Mark said, looking over their handiwork.

 

“Guess we were pretty hungry,” Anti surmised, glancing down at his ruined clothes. He put a quarter into the old-fashioned jukebox and “Sweet Child o’ Mine” began to screech across the empty bar. Humming idly along to the song, not really knowing the lyrics, he turned to face Mark and gulped down a huge swig of whisky.

 

“Oh, Marquinhos,” Anti sighed dreamily, stumbling over toward his elder. “We make a good team, you and I.” He clapped his hand on Mark’s shoulder blade, squeezing the bone so hard it felt like it may snap. Anti’s cheeks were flushed pink, the first bit of color Mark had seen on his face in a while. The Irishman offered the bottle to Mark, holding the neck daintily.

 

“Have a drink with me?” he asked, a gleam of mischief behind his sinister red gaze. Gently pushing the bottle away, Mark shook his head.

 

“A—Anti…” the Korean started, breath caught in his throat.

 

After sitting the liquor bottle down on the table next to them, the vampire-god gripped Mark’s lower back, pulling their bodies closer together. Anti felt…warm.

 

“Mark…” Anti replied, mimicking the Korean’s dazed voice.

 

Mark was terrified, unsure of whether to pull away or stay here. Anti laid his head on Mark’s chest gently, the song fading out in the background as he listened to the emptiness of his non-beating heart. This display of affection from the monster that took over Mark’s friend was unsettling, uncharacteristic, and yet the older vampire didn’t move. He was frozen in place.

 

Anti’s hand crept up to Mark’s dark locks, his fingers twirling them around now that they had gotten longer and shaggier. His vampire claws were extended, the sharp point of them sweeping dangerously close to his scalp.

 

The Irish vampire pulled back slightly, his eyes staring directly into Mark’s, their similar heights allowing for such comfort. But something was _wrong_ with his eyes. Mark saw Anti’s mouth moving, but it was as if everything was in slow-motion. He couldn’t quite make out what he was trying to tell him. Straining to hear Anti’s voice through the white noise that had clouded his brain, he squinted, confusion clearly written across his face.

 

What Anti saw was different.

 

“Mark,” he had said, “now would be a good time for you to tell me what’s been going on with you.” His eyes swirled with dark energy and Mark was caught in the spider’s web, unable to turn back now.

 

Without inflection, Mark immediately responded to Anti’s question, his empty eyes gazing through to the other end of the universe.

 

“I’ve been hallucinating people I’ve killed,” he told the vampire-god. “Amber has been visiting me and it feels like…an omen. It feels like she’s trying to tell me something.”

 

Scowling, Anti gripped both sides of Mark’s temples, trying not to squeeze him apart like an overly-ripe melon.

 

“What is she saying?” he questioned, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Does she know?”

 

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Mark said, unfazed by Anti’s relentless grip. “‘Know’ what?”

 

Realizing he had said too much, Anti’s forehead smoothed out and his eyes began to fade back to the baby-blues he had come to adore so much in the mirror every morning.

 

“Nothing, Mark,” he said. “We had a great night out together. We drank our fill of blood, and we partied, and we had ourselves a good time.” The trance was broken, and Mark blinked a few times to clear the fuzz from his vision. “Right?”

 

Nodding happily, Mark agreed without question.

 

“Right,” the Korean said. “Let’s do this again sometime.”

 

After Anti forced another electrical issue in the bar, causing it to burn to the ground, the two escaped back to the mansion. They opted out of going back into the desert now that the sun was coming up, instead feeling an overwhelming need to shower and rest.

 

Most members of the harem were still fast asleep from whatever debauchery they had gotten themselves into the night before, empty vodka bottles strewn about their bedroom floors, while Mark scurried from the shower to his master bedroom wrapped in only a towel. He was ready for sleep, feeling fulfilled from his trip with Anti. He grinned to himself, thinking about how much better off he was with Anti in his life. How _free_ he felt. Why did this feeling seem so brand new?

 

Mark opened his bedroom door to a wide-open window on the opposite side of the room, a nightingale perched halfway inside. In its beak was Amber’s bracelet—the bracelet he had thrown out the window that night at The Lemon Tree. The bracelet that had mysteriously ended up in his pocket without his conscious knowledge.

 

Stunned, the vampire froze in place as the bird fluttered into the room, hovering over the bed which faced the door. It dropped the bracelet into a pallid, skeletal hand before flying back out the window. Amber sat on the bed, toying with the bracelet in one hand, one leg crossed over the other, as if she had been waiting on Mark to arrive.

 

The allegedly-dead woman cleared her throat before speaking, upon seeing that Mark was not going to come any further into the room. She gestured to the bracelet in her hand.

 

“So,” she began, tossing her bangs out of her eyes. “Did you lose something?” 


	34. Puzzle Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, I hope some day I'll make it out of here  
> Even if it takes all night, or a hundred years  
> Need a place to hide, but I can't find one near  
> Wanna feel alive, outside I can fight my fear.  
> Isn't it lovely, all alone?  
> Heart made of glass, my mind of stone  
> Tear me to pieces, skin and bone  
> Hello...  
> Welcome home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi yes PLS DON'T PANIC the title of this fic has indeed changed. IT STILL THE SAME FIC. I just had been toying with the idea of changing the title for a LONG time, like a year or so. And I finally gone do it bih. lmao but please enjoy this, it's shorter but I'm bout to get to the real shit here in a lil bit.

Anti was several feet ahead of Mark in the alley, squeezing himself through the tight spaces between the dumpsters and the crumbling brick buildings. They had heard the accident from a mile away—the screech of tires as the vehicles tried to stop colliding into each other. A sickening crunch of metal and the unmistakable sound of broken glass scattering the pavement. The sweet scent of blood from the bodies amongst the wreckage. Emerging from the alley, they came upon a scene of true horror, one that would put even their murderous tendencies to shame.

 

Mark dissociated as he stood back away from Anti at the mouth of the alleyway, slumped against the brick wall as he watched his comrade in crime begin to tear the doors from one of the vehicles involved.

 

The Korean recalled his conversation with Amber a few weeks ago that morning in his bedroom.

 

“He’s planning something,” Jack’s former lover warned him. In disbelief, Mark denied her claim.

 

“I told you,” he spat, “you’re not real. Just an illusion. Some kind of alcohol-induced hallucination.” 

 

“You can believe that all you want,” the dead girl said, anger rising in her voice. “I don’t care. But I’ve been trying to reach out to you for a long time, now. And you can finally talk to me.” She smiled softly. “That means I’m getting stronger.”

 

“Where have you been that you can ‘reach out’ to me?” Mark questioned.

 

“In the Otherworld.” Her reply was so quick, so matter-of-fact, that Mark froze mid-thought. When he didn’t respond immediately, she continued.

 

“My ancestor is the original Sorceress that worked with the Ancients to create the serum that was eventually injected into Jack as a baby,” Amber told him. “Betresh is her name. My grandmother was the Irish sorceress that slipped into the hospital the night Jack was born.”

 

“Your grandmother was… Sinéad?” the vampire asked, his brain working to catch up to what she was saying.

 

A loud thud of the metal being thrown onto the road broke Mark from his recollection. The Korean shook his head, hurrying over to assist Anti. Everyone involved in the accident was dead. Everyone except the man they had been following all evening. The man that had tried to escape them, too drunk to drive and not realizing it.

 

The sound of shallow breathing was loud in Anti’s ears as he ducked his head inside the crumpled mess of twisted frame to stare at their target, fear in the poor man’s gaze.

 

“Fucked up, didn’t ya?” Anti asked coldly, a slight grin on his face. The man tried to cry out, a stream of blood bubbling from his lips. His lungs were filling quickly with blood and fluids. He would be dead within a few moments.   

 

“It’s funny how the world is so small,” Amber had said in response to Mark’s realization. “That my family is actually the direct bloodline of the most powerful Sorceress to ever exist. And that I’d end up falling in love with the vessel for the god Shesmu.” The dead girl looked off into the distance, reminiscing. “There’s just so much I never knew. And all I had to do to find out was die.”

 

Mark was speechless, his chocolate eyes uncertain as he watched Amber’s fingers fiddle with her bracelet.

 

“Betresh said this thing was supposed to protect me,” she said upon noticing that Mark was entranced in her jewelry. “I never really understood my mom’s connection to it. Guess it was just the last piece of Grandma that she had. She never told me about Sinéad. Only that she had left once my mom got pregnant with me.”

 

“Where is Betresh now?” the vampire asked. “Does she…does she know what Anti is planning?”

 

A grave look crossed Amber’s dead gaze. A look of dread and trepidation.

 

“That’s the thing,” the girl sighed. “Every time I enter this realm from the Otherworld, I…I forget. Something is blocking me.”

 

“But how can you tell me all this other shit?” her former friend barked. “How can you tell me the _History of Amber_ but you can’t tell me what Anti is planning?”

 

“Because it’s _him_!” she shrieked, surprised by her own voice. “ _Anti_ is the one blocking me. He has some sort of…I don’t know. He knows I’m able to talk to you, or something.”

 

“How could he possibly know that?”

 

“I’m still trying to figure that out.”

 

Anti began to harshly pull the mangled body of the man from the vehicle, despite his screams of agony and protest. Mark swallowed as he stared at the man’s passenger—a young woman whose limbs were broken and twisted so beyond repair that he wasn’t sure how a mere collision could have done such a thing.

 

“Isn’t it crazy how they die like that?” Anti asked Mark, who still hadn’t spoken a word since arriving on the scene. The night air was crisp and the streets were dead, but the tinge of blood was ever present on the tip of the older vampire’s tongue.

 

“Their bodies just…squash.” The vampire-god chuckled with delight. “I find it fascinating.”

 

Ignoring his hunger, Mark knelt down to rest on his haunches as he watched Anti rip the near-lifeless victim from the driver’s seat to drop him onto the pavement. Still clinging to the light, the man forced his eyes to stay open, even though he wanted so badly to close them and let go.

 

“Shit…he’s lost a lot o’ blood,” Anti surmised, scowling. “Looks like we don’t get an early dinner tonight.” The Irishman clutched a fistful of the man’s shaggy, unkempt hair, forcing him to look him dead in the eyes. A guttural sound escaped the human’s throat—his neck was likely broken.

 

“See what happens when you try to run, you fuckin’ fool?” Anti growled, his fangs bared. “Marquinhos and I had worked up quite the appetite chasing you and your whore down. And then you go and do _this_. You had to go and die a _lot_ quicker than we would have liked…but I guess it’s more painful for you this way.”

 

Mark watched as the blood from the wreckage and the vehicle’s fluids mixed together on the pavement, creating a slick and ugly abysmal art piece. He glanced over to see the others in the opposing car—an Uber driver and three young girls. All dead. All broken and mangled beyond recognition. All bled dry from the impact.

 

“It’s just so hard to work on an empty stomach,” Anti continued, breaking Mark’s concentration. The vampire-god hoisted the dying man up onto his shoulder, carrying him like a sack of flour across the street, the last remaining drops of sweet crimson dripping to waste on the concrete below.

 

“So, what’s your plan?” Mark inquired of the dead woman, settling onto the floor with his legs crossed. “Figure out how to get past Anti’s block? Then what?”

 

“I don’t know if it’s possible to get past the block from this side,” she answered in a small voice. “I think I have to…come back.”

 

“To _life_?” Surely this was a joke.

 

“Betresh and I have been working together on a spell, for lack of a better term. A ritual. All that needs done is to spill a little of my blood onto the nightingale bracelet.” Amber tossed the bracelet toward Mark and he caught it, unsurprised by his reflexes. “But it has to be done on the eve of a new moon. And the blood has to be warm.”

 

“Okay,” Mark stopped her, “there are a couple issues with that. The biggest one is that your body was left in my fucking house when Anti burnt it to the ground. So, unless the place is still in flames, I sincerely doubt we are gonna be getting _any_ warm blood from your corpse.”

 

“Doesn’t have to be from my corpse,” she answered, shaking her head. “Remember when you fed from me?”

 

“Ages ago,” the vampire scoffed.

 

“There are still trace amounts of _my_ blood mixed in _your_ bloodstream—along with countless others’, I’m positive. But Betresh thinks it could be just enough to work.”

 

Mark rolled his head back and forth from one shoulder blade to the next, secretly criticizing the plan in his mind.

 

“Anti is my friend now,” he finally replied sourly, although he didn’t believe his own words. “He and I have had a lot of fun together.”

 

“Anti is the reason that everything you’ve worked toward your entire life has gone straight to hell,” the girl hissed, “and you know it. Think about it. Your family bloodline can’t even continue because Anti is in the wrong body. All those years you spent wanting to have your memories back…they’re gone. All those years building a relationship with Jack just so he could live a human life for a little longer…wasted. What was _any_ of it for? To let this fucking… _monster_ come in and take the reins?”

 

“That isn’t true!” Mark cried, knowing that it _was_ all true. He hadn’t had a chance to think of it that way. He hadn’t had much chance to think at all.

 

“And what happened to those memories, Mark?” The fiery corpse-woman was not letting her guard down. “Do you even care?”

 

“I don’t even have all of them,” he responded in a dry manner. “Anti only gives them to me to reward me or punish—“

 

It clicked, then. Of course it did. Anti had only _ever_ used Mark. Even from the beginning—taking Mark out with him to the clubs to let him feed from humans was just a way to mask the plan to turn Mark back into his former, bloodthirsty self. It was disguised as Anti “helping” him, in some sick way. Splattering the clean slate the Korean vampire had created with the filthy blood of innocent people. Of his father. Taking his soul so that he wouldn’t care.

 

 _Did_ he care?

 

Holding his head on both sides, he groaned, trying to will Amber away with what was left of his sanity.

 

Mark followed Anti through the dark streets and into the forest, hands in the pockets of his hoodie as he kicked at the tree roots and pebbles on the ground. The blood trail was becoming smaller and smaller, red droplets much more spread out. The man on Anti’s shoulder was dead now, already starting to grow very cold despite the warmth of the evening.

 

“I say we put this guy on ice and call it a day,” Anti offered quietly from up ahead, not bothering to turn around.  

 

“What about dinner?” Mark asked, feeling like a child begging to his mother.

 

“We have food at home.” Mark knew that Anti was referring to the harem. A twinge of annoyance bristled the hairs on the back of Mark’s neck. He looked to the sky to see a bright full moon between the leaves of the trees in this forgotten forest.

 

“I’m not sure if there’s any way to save Jack,” Amber surmised, a deep sadness in her voice. The male immortal kept his head buried in his crossed arms that he rested on his knees. “We’re still working on that.”

 

“Anti says Jack is safe.” Amber could hardly make out his words with his head buried like that.

 

“Listen to you! ‘Anti this, Anti that.’ Jack would be _disgusted_ —“

 

“Jack isn’t here!” Mark roared, getting to his feet quickly. “And he isn’t coming back! You can’t fucking save him, it’s too late! Everything I’ve done was for _nothing_.” On the verge of a breakdown, he took a couple of deep breaths, stepping back away from the dead woman. “I work with Anti, now. We’re a team.”

 

“You _serve_ Anti. You know damn well you’re not his equal.”

 

“Just crawl back into Hell where you came from.” His response was quick, without any thought, and he felt no remorse for it. He tossed the bracelet across the room, hearing it clink to the hardwood floor. “Tell Betresh to go fuck herself. Sorceresses are nothing but a stain on our history. Should have never worked with them in the first place.”

 

Amber’s face was stone, her gaze unchanging. She didn’t seem fazed at all by his outburst. A deep sigh escaped her and she pursed her lips.

 

“You’re gonna change your mind,” she concluded. “When you do, I’ll be here.”

 

And she was gone.

 

The pair of vampires arrived at their home in the middle of the desert, their target in tow, wrapped in an array of blankets and secured with rope. Mark had kindly offered to put the body in the ice box in the basement, thankful they had managed to procure an oversized one specifically for body storage.

 

He opened the ice box—thankfully empty—and dropped the man’s body inside, still wrapped in the blankets. It would be fine until morning. They always were. Then, they’d collect their pay and do it all over again with someone else.

 

Mark exhaled slowly after closing the lid to the ice box. He turned to face the opposite direction, allowing his body to sink to the floor like candle wax, coming to rest on the cold concrete.

 

Admittedly, he was growing tired of this life. He missed when things were simpler—or, as simple as they could be in the complicated world of vampires. Although he was living without a soul, he found himself reminiscing upon the “good old days,” days spent with his family, or with his lovers, or with Jack.

 

Jack. He missed Jack.

 

At times, Mark thought he could see glimpses of his former friend within Anti’s façade. The body that housed the god shared so many similar qualities, and yet, they were so foreign to Mark. It was like a puzzle with pieces that were too jagged and irregular to fit any of the other pieces properly, but when you put it together, it still _looked_ like a finished product. There was just something inherently wrong about looking at it for too long and wishing it were the right image.

 

His newfound status as a soulless being didn’t allow him to feel guilt for any of the lives he’d taken, but he did feel an emptiness where emotion once abounded. He laughed softly to himself as he realized he didn’t remember the last time he felt wholesomely happy.

 

Mark finally retired to his room just as the sun was starting to come up. He closed his door, fumbling to turn the lock quietly, and clicked on his stereo. The noise of the mindless music was enough to drown out anything he might be doing in his room, even to the most sensitive of ears. He knelt down to a loose floorboard beneath his rug near the bed, lifting it to reveal the ornate box he kept the bracelet and the obsidian blade in. Not bothering to pull the entire box from its hiding place, he carefully lifted the lid and plucked out the bracelet, dropping the floorboard back over his treasure chest.

 

The vampire clutched the bracelet to his chest, squeezing the charm in his cold hands.

 

“Hey, jackass,” Amber joked quietly. Smiling to himself, Mark turned to see her sitting comfortably in the middle of the king-sized bed.

 

“It’s almost a new moon,” Mark whispered, having a seat next to her. She still looked the same—cold, dead flesh, hollow eyes, her throat still torn open from Anti’s fangs. Her pajamas hung loosely from her slender frame.

 

“Cool. Betresh thinks she has a plan for how to save Jack.”

 

“And what about…?” Mark trailed off as Amber knowingly nodded.

 

“Yes. We’ll take care of Anti, too.”

 

“Still can’t figure out how to get past his block?”

 

“Nah. But that isn’t as important as getting back out here so I can help you from this side.”

 

“I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

 

Amber laughed, shrugging dramatically. “I never know what I’m doing.”

 

After their brief conversation, Mark sat alone on his knees, looking into the box at the bracelet he had just placed back in. The dagger sat next to it, still flecked with crimson. The mere thought of blood made his stomach ache, and he held a fragile hand over his abdomen. The fact that his dead father’s blood sparked his hunger was enough to ruin his appetite.

 

He grabbed the blade, using an old t-shirt and some water to wipe away the stains as best he could.


	35. The Nail in the Coffin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Pick it up, pick it all up  
> And start again.  
> You've got a second chance,  
> You could go home,  
> Escape it all,  
> It's just irrelevant.
> 
> It's just medicine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp. I cometh to deliver after some hella time away lol. I've been busy with work and I went to a music festival and on a camping trip with friends and to New Orleans with my bf (IT WAS BEAUTIFUL I LOVED IT) so FINALLY, after all this time, here is a chapter which I hope you dig or if you don't just please don't tell me lul
> 
> love yall biiiiiitch

Winter had arrived in Cairo, though the vampire duo would have had no knowledge of it if not for glancing at a calendar. The temperatures remained warm, the night air cooling to sweater-weather. Many people in Cairo didn’t celebrate Christmas, and those who did didn’t make such celebrations public knowledge. Anti sat on the rooftop of the mansion, looking over the desert wasteland they had called their home for many months now, wondering if Marquinhos had also forgotten that it was nearly Christmas.

 

The god cared little for pleasures such as holidays, but had come to grow acquainted with them through being a passive observer while using Jack as his host. Part of him, a deep and unknown part that he had never been aware of, was envious of Jack’s holiday celebrations with his loved ones. He supposed it was a lingering tainted feeling of humanity from his time residing within a human.

 

The Irish vampire looked across the horizon that seemed to stretch on for hundreds of miles. Hanging above him was the tiniest sliver of an alabaster moon, its very presence making him feel less alone.

 

Something was wrong with Mark.

 

Despite not knowing the truth completely, he suspected that Amber was calling to his sire from a Great Beyond that even he couldn’t reach in his infinite, chaotic ability—and he wasn’t sure what he was going to do about it. 

 

Anti’s musings were cut short before they truly had time to form in his head. With his enhanced hearing, he felt a rumble deep in his inner-ear from miles out, which was soon accompanied by a few pairs of headlights racing toward their house.

 

“What the…” Anti lost his train of thought once he saw that Mark was leading the pack in the Jeep, the newest harem member Nubia hanging daintily out the window from the side of the vehicle, an oversized bottle of fruity vodka in her hand.  

 

The god quickly did a mental recount of the harem members they had collected so far. It had reached nine now. He smiled to himself.  

 

The entourage of vehicles pulled up haphazardly to the house, Mark taking his space on the parking pad and pointing toward the sand-filled yard for others to park. Looking up, the older vampire smiled at Anti, giving a half-assed wave before wrapping his arm around Nubia’s waist to hold her up as she stumbled toward the doorway.

 

“I decided to have a Christmas party,” Mark shouted to Anti. At least _that_ question was answered. Puzzled, the god cocked his head to one side.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

 

“Didn’t want you to say ‘no’!” With that, Anti heard the front door open and watched as dozens of people paraded toward the house with arms full of booze.

 

“On the contrary…” the vampire-god chuckled to himself. “I do love a good party.”

 

Anti climbed down from his perch and landed soundlessly next to the pool, giving himself a once-over before raking his fingers through his hair and following the party inside. He _knew_ that Marquinhos had some type of plan. The older vampire never wanted to host social events, especially last-minute gatherings that Anti had no part in. Instead of trying to catch Mark in some “act,” Anti sighed, stepping through the threshold into another dimension.

 

The energy was chaotic, with most of the harem members already being completely trashed _before_ Mark had brought an entire extra party to their abode in the desert. Jello shots and full bottles of top-shelf liquor were being passed around like candy, the bass from the music was rattling Anti’s teeth in his skull, and the scent of blood and perfume and pheromones was almost a deadly combination.

 

Mark was off in a dark corner in the kitchen, his hands trailing idly along a dark, curvy girl’s hips, his eyes pulling her into a trance. She was melting for him, weak at her core and in her knees. She would gladly give him anything he wanted.

 

And even better, still—he was going to take it, whether she would give it or not.

 

His fangs found her jugular and bit down, releasing the feeling of pleasure into her bloodstream to make her feel less afraid. The young girl squeaked in pain, then moaned in spite of herself, trying desperately to keep it together.

 

“What…the hell…is happening?” she asked breathlessly as Mark’s mouth moved away from her throat. Staring into her eyes, he expected her to scream, or try to get away.

 

“I’m hungry and I’m drinking your blood,” the vampire told her matter-of-factly. He chuckled lowly, crimson thick on his teeth and dripping from his lips. “You like it, don’t you?”

 

Without question, the girl nodded frantically, her chest heaving with excitement. She pulled Mark into her, then, kissing him deeply as her tongue explored his mouth and tasted the coppery tang of her own blood. The sharp point of his fangs nearly sliced her tongue, and she whimpered, opting to be more cautious. She didn’t know what to think of this stranger she had only met an hour ago—vampires were just a myth before then. After a few drinks and a couple of Molly’s, however, she was willing to accept anything.

 

“Please,” she begged, pulling away breathlessly, “do it again.”

 

Anti studied this encounter from the archway to the kitchen, one hand holding a whisky glass and the other hand shoved deep into his pocket. Mark sensed that he was being watched and resurfaced, turning to glare at Anti deviously.

 

“You gonna stand there, or are you gonna have some?” the Korean offered, turning the panting girl’s head to reveal unscathed, glistening skin.

 

Anti smirked, a strange look in his eyes. “I’m not in the mood for leftovers.” He swirled his glass, ice cubes dancing around the whisky, and took a drink.

 

Shrugging, Mark turned back to the girl without another word and sank his teeth back in. In his head was a terrifying thought—that Anti was onto him, that the god had seen through his plan this entire time, and that he was planning to stop him from carrying out his task.

 

He just needed to get his body temperature up to a normal human’s and maintain it until sunset the next evening. He had been preparing for this for weeks now—only having a little blood to keep himself satisfied until it was time to fully indulge.

 

Mark came back up for air, leaving a delicate trail of blood-soaked kisses up his vixen’s neck. He turned his head slowly, seeing Amber twirling alone to the music in the dark, her smile contradicting the gash in her throat and her glazed eyes. She saw him watching her and waved subtly, continuing to dance carefree and happily, knowing no one but the vampire could see her.

 

“Ugh…I don’t feel so good…” the nameless woman said, pulling Mark back to reality.

 

“Go lie down,” he cooed with his silken voice in her ear, giving her goosebumps. “That happens sometimes…I find it very difficult to stop myself when I’m starving.” His voice was dark, a foreboding sense to the words, and yet the girl obeyed and retreated to one of the downstairs bedrooms. Amber chuckled, a bubbly sound that came from a place of true delight.

 

“Be careful, Mark,” she warned. “ _Try_ not to kill anyone.” 

 

Although Anti was aware that Mark was clearly up to _something_ , he still couldn’t be positive what the something was.

 

Creeping up the stairs toward his master bedroom, the Irishman found that the party had trickled into the second floor of the house. Scanning the small crowd, he felt the energy buzzing in his brain and in his chest, and it was almost overwhelming. He looked to his left at Mark’s master bedroom door, curiosity getting the better of him as he slid inside and closed it tight.

 

Anti had never bothered Mark in his own safe space, let alone entered his abode without his knowledge. It felt invasive and wrong, and if Anti loved anything, he loved everything that was wrong. Stepping carefully across the room, he glanced over the perfectly-made bed—likely to be destroyed sooner rather than later. The room was neater than he had imagined it being, especially since Mark didn’t seem the type to care much for tidiness.

 

His shoe found a loose board on the hardwood floor. Ocean-blue eyes trailed forward, seeing the end of the board poking ever-so-slightly up beneath a decorative rug. Humming to himself, Anti cautiously stepped forward, one hand outstretched to lift up the rug.

 

There was a strange energy emanating from beneath the floor, and he could feel it in his fingertips…something hidden. Something secret. Something Mark didn’t want him to know about. Anti’s stomach coiled with delight at the thought of uncovering Mark’s intentions.  

 

The bedroom door slammed open and Mark stumbled in, a different girl than the one in the kitchen locked in his arms as she peppered his neck and collarbone with kisses and bites. Anti turned, feeling like an animal caught in a trap.

 

“Oh, er…hi, Mark,” the vampire-god greeted, embarrassed.

 

“Hey,” Mark offered half-heartedly, his back against the wall as the woman continued to lather him with affection. “What are you doing in here?” Every alarm in Mark’s head was going haywire. _He knows. He knows…fuck._

 

Glancing out of the corner of his eye, Anti stepped off the loose board and watched it move back into place under the rug.

 

“Just needed some place quiet,” he lied. Seeing that Mark’s girl was not about to stop the action, he decided to excuse himself. Mark laughed, a strangled sound that he tried desperately to mask.

 

“Yeah, I’m gonna need my bed soon,” the Korean admitted, hoping to steer Anti from any suspicion. “This one isn’t gonna be patient.” The young woman dropped to her knees before Mark, fumbling with his pants.

 

“Okay, yeah,” Anti said, opening the door. “Have fun, talk later.”

 

Instead of focusing on the sounds coming from Mark’s room, Anti turned to look down the hallway at a young man and woman standing off to themselves. Forgetting the awkward encounter from moments ago, he collected himself, downing the last of his whisky before heading toward the pair like a predator stalking his prey. He had his own plans to worry about, and if Mark was giving any indication of how soon _his_ plans would be unfolding…then Anti certainly didn’t have much time left at all.

 

The couple down the hall both turned to look at Anti, unaware of his intentions as he eased ever closer. Both were so out of their minds on whatever substances they’d indulged in that his presence was warm, welcoming, full of trust.

 

The Irishman reached his hands to cup their soft faces, stroking along their jawline with his thumb. His lips formed a sickening grin.

 

“You two will do nicely.”

 

Mark chose not to sleep that evening.

 

He lay in his bed on his back, one woman sprawled across his chest, and a different one lounging like a house cat at the bottom of his bed, both heavily dreaming some alcohol-induced fantasies. Neither of them were the woman he had brought into his room earlier in the night. His deep chocolate eyes stared holes into his ceiling, the fan gently whirring on a low speed above them, while he tried to recollect the haze of the evening.  

 

Amber lay across from him on her side, smiling over at him.

 

“It’s really weird that you’re watching me like that,” Mark admitted after a while. Her laugh was a peaceful melody.

 

“Please. You’d be surprised at the shit I’ve seen from you.”

 

Mark scoffed, offering her a side-eyed glare, before slinking out of the grip of two girls whose names he’d never even known in the first place. He had fed from both of them, over-indulged himself on blood to the point where he wasn’t sure that he could stomach another drop.

 

He stumbled into the bathroom, avoiding his reflection in the mirror—haggard, he was sure—and pulled a thermometer from one of the bathroom drawers. The vampire skeptically checked his temperature by placing the silver tip of the device under his tongue for a few moments. About 30 Celsius.

 

“Close,” Amber encouraged from behind him.

 

Mark shook his head, dropping the thermometer back into the drawer. “Not close enough.”

 

After a scalding shower which left his skin pepper-red, he came back out to his bedroom to find that the young women, along with any trace of them, were gone. They must have surely found their way back to wherever they came from.

 

The Korean tiptoed around the deadly silent house, sneaking past Anti’s room so as not to wake him. There was a stillness in the air that made him uncomfortable as he passed the room, the door cracked just enough to peer in at the unmade bed. Anti was slumped over, his arm draped lazily over the side of the mattress, and two young cohorts were entangled with him in his sheets. All were naked, and the two humans had bite wounds, bruises, and scratches tainting their flesh. Anti was so rough.

 

Mark scavenged the refrigerator downstairs for as much blood as he could find. The thought of drinking anymore made him almost ill. He had never considered himself a glutton in any capacity, but he knew he needed it to get his temperature a little warmer. That’s all he needed. Just a bit warmer.

 

He warmed the contents of an oversized mug in the microwave and went outside to the pool, careful to slide the glass doors closed quietly. A couple of the party-goers from the night before were floating on inflatables in the pool, passed out and baking in the sun. Instead of moving them, Mark settled in on the Jacuzzi side and cranked the heat all the way, sipping steadily on his meal.

 

A thought lingered in mind that he couldn’t seem to push away. Why had Anti been snooping around in his bedroom last night? There’s no _way_ he knew what Mark and Amber were planning…right? His stomach twisted in knots as he reluctantly swallowed more and more blood. The vampire groaned, laying his head back on the concrete and staring into the sky.

 

“You good?” Amber asked him. He glanced over quickly, barely making out her outline.

 

“No,” he admitted sheepishly.

 

“Scared?”

 

A silence overcame them as Mark tried to come up with the right word. “Terrified.”

 

“He doesn’t know,” the redhead promised. “How could he? There’s no way.”

 

Mark laughed once, harshly, a sound of disbelief. He brought his head back up to drain the rest of the blood in the mug.

 

“I really hope this works,” the Korean said almost to himself. “We have one shot at this.”

 

“It’ll work,” the girl affirmed. “Betresh is confident.”

 

“I do love placing my entire life on people who have been dead for, like, a million years,” the immortal man joked with annoyance.   

 

Mark baked in the sun, alone now that the random mortals had risen from the dead and made their way out of the pool. He wasn’t lying about being terrified. He knew in his heart that if Anti wasn’t already aware of their plan, then the god was suspicious at the very least. He would be on high alert all day. Once sundown came, Mark was going out into the desert.

 

He would take the bracelet. He would use his warmed blood to help complete the ritual. He would bring Amber back.

 

And together, they would defeat Anti and free Jack.

 

Confidence was key.

 

The sun was inching lower over the horizon when Mark finished up his second shower for the day, stepping out to look over himself in the mirror. Dark circles beneath his eyes and his posture indicated that he had seen better days. He just needed this one to be over. 

 

He checked his temperature with the thermometer. 36 Celsius. It was finally time.

 

He creeped down the stairs, still not hearing any movement from anyone in the house. They all did tend to sleep until nearly dark, some not even stirring until the stars were out. Mark himself typically arose around this time, but his nerves kept him too wired for rest.

 

In the kitchen, the vampire clutched the sink for support as he exhaled slowly, tracing his finger over the outline of Amber’s bracelet in his front pocket. He watched out the window as the rays of the sun began to fade, the golden aura of the desert succumbing to the blue wash of evening. It was going to be black out soon. A new moon had risen.

 

“Good morning, Marquinhos.”

 

Anti’s voice was like honey in his ear, and yet, everything in him tensed. The feeling of dread washed over him, paling his face even more so than usual. Mark turned to see the vampire god seated at the kitchen table, one hand outstretched and resting on the handle of a warm mug of blood. His other arm was draped over the back of his chair. His grin was smug, infuriating, proud of himself.

 

“Morning,” Mark muttered through a clenched jaw. He noticed his fingers twitching and crossed his arms tight over his chest. Anti sensed the nervous energy. “When did you get up?”

 

The Irishman pursed his lips. “I’ve been up for a little while,” he answered nonchalantly.

 

A grating, awful silence befell them. The tension between the two bodies was palpable, and Mark felt himself trying to recoil inward until he imploded into nothingness. Anti knew. He _knew_.

 

“Mark,” Anti began after a sip from his mug. “I’m going to give you one more chance. Just one! One more chance…” He trailed off idly, tossing his head from one side to the other.

 

“One more chance for what?” Mark questioned, defiance in his tone.

 

Anti sat forward, both palms flat on the table as his eyes pierced through Mark.

 

“You would never lie to me, would you?”

 

The question burned through Mark, ignited every nerve ending in his brain, sent his impulse to run away into a chaotic frenzy. It was a question he had answered numerous times, over and over, and yet, the petulant child remained hung up on it. For the first time in a very long time, Mark was pissed.

 

“Shut the fuck up, Anti.” The Korean’s voice was low and deadly, rumbling in his chest.

 

The vampire at the table began to chuckle as if he’d just heard the funniest joke in all of history.

 

“Mark,” he laughed, “come on. It’s over. Just tell me what you’re up to.”

 

Mark’s silence made Anti grind his teeth together furiously.

 

“ _Come on_!” The Irishman’s exclamation, paired with a fist pounding into the table, made Mark almost jump out of his skin. “I’ll even forgive you for whatever it is you’ve done to stab me in the back. I promise. I won’t hurt you if you just tell me the truth now.”

 

“Where’s Jack?” Mark demanded, ignoring Anti’s request.

 

A deep, sorrowful sigh escaped Anti’s lips as he relaxed into the chair, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

 

“You know the answer to that, Mark. He’s gone.”

 

“That’s not what you told me before.”

 

Another grin turned the corners of Anti’s lips, and it made Mark sick. “Now we both have secrets.”

 

“He’s lying,” Amber said from beside Mark. The vampire nearly made the mistake of answering her in the moment, nearly forgetting that Anti couldn’t see her. “He’s just trying to get to you. We need to leave. Time’s almost up.”

 

“Last chance, Marquinhos,” Anti taunted, his demeanor shining with glee and innocence—two things no one should ever pair with the likes of him. “Wha’cha been up to? What’s it got to do with the little whore?”

 

“Mark…” Amber was begging now, tears in her dead, hollow eyes. “We have to _go_.”

 

“Five…” Anti was counting down now? He was seriously playing this game?

 

“Ignore him!” the redheaded girl answered in response.

 

“Four…” The Irish vampire was ticking the seconds away on his fingers now, toying with him, keeping him dangling from the puppet strings he had been attached to for far too long now. “Three…”

 

“ _Mark!_ ”

 

Amber’s voice was distant now, echoing in the back of his skull, as Mark gripped a meat cleaver in his right fist. Without another chance to react, Mark had moved in a blur to tower over Anti, bringing the silver blade of the kitchen knife down to slice through the forearm that Anti had—stupidly, in retrospect—laid out across the table. The cleaver connected with flesh and sliced through bone so _easily_ , so _gently_ , to become lodged in the wood of the table beneath Anti’s arm.

 

Time stopped. Both vampires were frozen. Mark’s eyes glued to Anti’s expression—completely dumbfounded mixed in with the feeling of betrayal. Anti’s eyes glued to the knife that had just severed his forearm right below his elbow. Amber’s eyes wide in horror at the scene.

 

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the Irish vampire’s head raised to meet the brown eyes of the petrified vampire sire above him. A scream erupted from the god’s throat—savage, ear-splitting, blood-curdling. Mark had never heard anything like it in his life.

 

Despite this, Mark gave him no time to counteract, using his impulse to do the one thing he knew may yet save his life: run.

 

Without so much as a word or a breath, the Korean vampire turned on his heel and erupted _through_ the glass of the huge kitchen windows, tucking and rolling onto the sand and running across the desert at a speed he had never imagined he would be capable of…all the while hearing the most terrifying shriek fading behind him in the distance.

 

Fury boiled through Anti, an unbridled onslaught of emotion threatening to overwhelm him. He tore the meat cleaver from the table, from his bone, from his flesh, blood spurting like a volcano from the wound. The god threw the knife across the room, watching the bloodied blade landing in the wall on the other side.

 

He could not suppress the need, the absolute _desire_ he felt burning within him, to destroy Mark. To tear him to pieces, leaving his head intact so that all the vampire could do was watch helplessly as Anti mutilated his body in front of him, setting his limbs ablaze and painting the desert with his blood. He wouldn’t _kill_ him. No…Marquinhos deserved worse.

 

Anti picked up his severed forearm from the table and stomped his way through the living room and up the stairs toward Mark’s room. Upon passing a couple of the bedrooms, Umayma groggily stepped out, wondering what all the ruckus was downstairs. Without a word, Anti thrust his severed limb into her arms. Umayma looked down, crying out in surprise and horror as she dropped it to the ground.

 

“Get that on ice,” the god grumbled as he passed her by to go into Mark’s room. “I’ll be back.”

 

With his remaining arm, Anti yanked the wooden board from its place in Mark’s floor, rummaging in the darkness in his blind rage to find the special box. Inside it was the obsidian blade and nothing else. The rest of Mark’s secret had likely gone with him into the desert. Scowling, gripping the blade in his hand, he braced himself to smash through Mark’s bedroom window, landing gracefully on his bare feet two stories below. The scent of Mark was strong, as it should be. A laugh tore through Anti’s throat as he delighted in the hunt for his sire.

 

Mark was trekking across the desert, his eyes trained to the setting sun.

 

“Why did you cut his fucking arm off?!” Amber was shrieking as her ghostly figure kept pace with the immortal being. “What the _fuck_ Mark?”

 

“I panicked!” he cried, haphazardly yanking the bracelet from his pocket. “Can we do this now? Can we get it started right now?”

 

“I—I…I guess!” Amber focused her energy inward, feeling Betresh’s presence encircling her from the other side. “Okay, just…get some blood on the bracelet. On the nightingale charm. And I’ll do the rest.”

 

Without hesitation, Mark used his fangs to bite into his wrist. A surge of blood rushed forward, coating the bracelet in his other hand while his legs continued to carry him as far away from Anti as he could get.

 

Meanwhile, the vampire-god was hot on his trail, the scent of Mark’s blood in the back of his throat. He wielded the blade in his hand, trying not to lose his balance or stability from the lack of his other arm, not feeling the effect of blood-loss due to the lack of focusing on anything else but Marquinhos.

 

The sun was nearly gone as the night covered this part of the world. Mark stumbled once or twice, his weakness from being out in the sun earlier clearly evident, but Anti kept his pace up, gaining on the older vampire.

 

Mark and Amber came to a sheer drop-off, what seemed like a several-mile fall from where they stood. The vampire dug his heels into the ground to stop before taking a topple into the canyon below. The bracelet was swimming in a palm-full of blood and Amber was chanting in a language that had been dead for longer than either of them. She hadn’t realized that they had stopped.

 

“There’s nowhere else to go,” Mark whispered in horror. Amber was not allowing anything to break her concentration, and Betresh was keeping a strong hold on her from the Otherworld.

 

Anti’s glitching, strange cackle made Mark grow ice cold in the pit of his stomach. The Korean turned, gripping Amber’s bracelet in his fist while she continued her spell. Thick lines of crimson dripped from Mark’s wrist, continuing to coat the bracelet that was enclosed in his fist. Mark’s eyes trailed down Anti’s appearance—moving quickly from the insane look of joy mixed with rage on his face, to the stub of his left arm dripping blood slowly onto the sand, to the obsidian dagger gripped in his other hand.

 

“What now, Marquinhos?” the god asked, his voice riding a wave through several octaves, mimicking the voice of an archangel. Static electricity and darkness was ripping through the air, and Mark could feel it emanating from Anti. “Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.”

 

“I don’t need to hide anymore,” the older vampire said, trying not to cower in fear at the monster before him. He gave one quick glance over at Amber. “You’re too late.”

 

“ _I gave you a choice_ ,” the vampire-god roared, madness poisoning his tone and gleaming in his eyes. “You _lied_ to me! You _lied to me_!”

 

Anti stalked ever closer, his grin growing impossibly wider as foamy saliva dripped from his lips, a strange and tortured laugh forcing its way from his chest. Instinctively, Mark took one step back, feeling the edge of the cliff dangerously close. Admittedly, the older vampire was frightened. He had forgotten any previous desires to learn what Anti was planning. At this point, his will to survive had overtaken it all, and he wasn’t positive that the outcome of this encounter was going to favor him.

 

As long as Amber finished her spell. As long as she could do this herself or with Betresh. As long as Jack was going to be free. Mark was at peace with this. He knew that he had to be.

 

Anti brought the obsidian blade up, pointing it in Mark’s direction, as Amber concentrated harder on the spell she and Betresh had devised.

 

“Is she here?” Anti asked, the childlikeness of his earlier vocalizations returning and mixing with the spine-chilling sound of a demonic choir of voices. “Is the red-haired _cunt_ here?”

 

Mark swallowed hard, looking out of the corner of his eyes at the dead girl, who still seemed oblivious to what was happening around her in the corporeal realm…maybe “oblivious” wasn’t the right word.

 

Another manic laugh erupted from Anti as he came toe-to-toe with Mark, the elder immortal trying desperately to uphold his status in the face of this creature who, he knew, was more powerful than he was.

 

“I am not going to _kill_ you, Mark,” Anti cooed, the electric energy surrounding him making Mark’s hairs stand on end. The vampire-god’s eyes locked on Mark’s, and in an instant, the Korean was frozen. Unable to move. Unable to react. Panic began to set in, and Anti could sense it. The smell of it made his mouth water.

 

Anti jerked his head harshly upwards and to the left, and Mark’s neck followed the movement, his muscles reacting to whatever the god desired. He came forward with the dagger, dragging the edge of the blade slowly across Mark’s throat, slicing it open, watching with delight as a cascade of blood spilled out. All Mark could do was groan in agony as the blood left his body and the blade cut into him. There was no scream to suppress; just an absolute panicked trepidation. He looked out of the corner of his eye since he was unable to turn his head. Amber was gone. His grip on the bracelet weakened and it dropped to the filthy, blood-stained sand below, unnoticed by Anti.

 

The Irishman stepped even closer to Mark, then, ducking his head down to Mark’s throat to run his tongue along the freshly-opened wound, lapping up as much of the warm blood as he could. He slipped his tongue daintily in and out of the open wound, the feeling of it twisting Mark’s guts. Anti moaned, pulling back to lick his lips clean. Mark only watched with bated breath. He could do nothing else.

 

He felt Anti release him, free him from whatever mind-control spell he had him under. His functionality returned to him. He caught his breath for the first time after feeling like he was going to drown.

 

The vampire-god seemed pleased with himself, his tongue laving along the sharp edge of the knife.

 

“I won’t kill you,” he promised again. Mark wasn’t convinced.

 

A mere second passed before the end of the obsidian blade collided into Mark’s chest cavity, buried to the hilt inside him, Anti’s eyes never breaking his gaze. He watched Mark go from shock, to agony, to sadness, to acceptance, all in the span of a few moments. It was the most beautiful sight he had beheld.

 

“…You’re gonna wish you were dead, though.” Anti smiled, every tooth in his mouth visible.

 

As the life left Mark’s eyes and he felt himself being ripped from his current plane of existence, he managed one final, unforgiving glare at the traitor-god Anti. _Shesmu_. The Korean’s lips curled back in a snarl to form three words, each taking an incredible expense of energy to utter.

 

“…Go to Hell.”

 

Anti made a sound that was somewhere between delight and tranquility. He hummed with pride as he ripped the blade from Mark’s chest. He brought his hand upward, his thumb curled around the hilt of the blade, the ruby jewel in the pommel glowing slightly. Anti’s clawed fingers waggled a gentle “goodbye” to his sire.

 

“See ya there,” Anti promised.

 

With the nail now firmly secured in the proverbial coffin, the Irishman raised his foot and slammed it into Mark’s abdomen, sending the older immortal sailing over the edge of the cliff side and to his doom in the darkness miles below.


End file.
